Revelations
by Aralinn
Summary: After the war, everyone believed that peace would come over the land, but all to soon a new threat arises and it will test everyones strength and have them look for hope in the most unlikely person, a person of myth and fabled legend. Please R&R. Thanks.
1. Prologue

I own nothing that pertains to the Lord of the Rings it is all property of J.R.R. Tolkien

Also i have no beta-reader as of yet, still searching for one, so please forgive errors and please tell me of any so they may be fixed asap

**Blood Elves**

We were thought to never exists, we were a legend, a figment of nightmares. And oh we were a nightmare, people were smart to fear us, we were superior to even the elves-stronger, faster, smarter-but we were cursed, ever thirsty and never filled. What are we you may ask, we are the vampires. We were created in the first age, Melkor's first demon creation, and his best. Though very few records mention us, only a handful of the oldest beings on Middle Earth know of our existence.

We were created by Melkor from the fires of the earth, damnation, but we failed to thrive. It was not until the elves came along that the first of the vampires or blood elf, black bloods-whichever name you prefer to call us was born and lived. Though it did not quite go as planned quickly it was learned that only a very few number of us turned out to fit Melkor's purpose-death, destruction, pain, fear, and control, many were able to fight the vampiric urges. Once the Valar created the race of men, Melkor took hundreds upon hundreds, realizing they easily succumbed, and so he created his army.

I was the first of his damn creations the first of the elves and men, the oldest and strongest. I was the leader of the rebellion of elfin vampires, the bloods elves, against him and his army of vampires. I was Túrante, bringer of victory, or so Melkor thought. The transformation into a vampire was horrendous, but I do not remember any details or much of my life before except I had a brother, who was also turned.

I yearned for blood, my throat was on fire with the thirst, but I still held onto enough of my elfin nature to control the hunger, I never touched a human or elf. To Melkor I was the biggest let down-weak and caring. I would never lead his vampire army, but he had to keep me, he would not risk news of his creation to be let out, and have his plans destroyed by the Valar.

When his army was up to his standards he forgot about the first vampires the blood elves, most of us never drank the blood we craved, never harmed human or elf, we couldn't, but that did not mean we hadn't changed much because we did. Our skin was a pale and held a slight glow and we were gorgeous, flawless to the eye. Our strength, speed, and senses were ten times that of the most skilled elf. And we had two sets of fangs, the longest of course being the canines and the set behind those-luckily they are retractable. About the only good thing were the wings, our retractable wings were large, spanning close to twenty five feet in length and black as night.

We wanted nothing more than to escape, create a life of our own, in peace and away from the madness and evil that surrounded us. The battle was a long and hard one, many died, but the true vampires were killed- every last one-we made sure of it to Melkor's horror. But wars cannot go unheard and unseen the Valar knew and came to destroy us, but because we turned on our own we were spared, but with limitations. We could never touch the blood of a human or elf, if such were to happen our vampiric nature could no longer be control. To Manwë himself we had to vow to destroy any who followed that path, and know we would always be watched.

And so our kind did as were promised, we have lived out our immortal lives in secret and solitude. As the last war, the war of the ring raged on we did as always and kept to ourselves, our numbers always dwindling. It was not until after the war that things changed, that our existence was truly confirmed, for only the oldest of beings on Middle Earth knew of us. I was the serious one, the oldest, the one itching for a change, but I was the leader, until I gave it up, threw it all away. I played my part in the war, helping but keeping out of site. Now this is Túrante's story, my story.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing that pertains to the Lord of the rings, it belongs to Tolkien

Please read and reviews, and constructive criticism is welcome, I have no beta reader for now, so im sure there are grammar and spelling mistakes. Thanks!

**Chapter 1 *edited***

The night came with a cold chill upon the air, the wind bringing up a storm from the west, the dark billowing clouds rolling their way in over the tree tops, it would hit hard on the town, she could already sense it, feel the pressure changing around her as she walked toward the large old house. It was built of stone and brick, one of the few two story houses outside the town. They had chimneys in most every room complete with furniture and other decor items. Once the house had been full of life, kids running wild, maids hanging clothes to dry, field hands tending the since dead crops, now it was lonely sitting on the hill, just the older couple and their one grandchild. Túrante slowly walked up the stair, lightly trailing her fingers on the banister, and once into the house she saw the older lady going to put on more firewood in the great room. She shook her head with a smile.

"Here let me get that for you Edlyn," Túrante's said as she took the fire wood from the lady with a smile. She knew the woman would not like the gesture.

And sure enough the rather plump women put her hands on her hips with a loud hmpf. She was only in her late sixties and probably had a good few years left in her, but hard work on a farm will were a person out and you could see it in the lines of her face. She was not helpless, actually for her age she got on rather well in Túrante's opinion. She was always going, working as hard as any maid half her age, and her husband was the same way—he worked what was left of the fields on his own when she could not help. She knew the old couple loved having her there, but it did not make it any easier for them to let up on the work they were used to doing. But then who would want to, it would be like a sign they were getting older, a sign that they were not able to do everything they wanted to. Túrante only could guess that it was not an easy thing to accept.

"I was perfectly capable of doing that child, I am not helpless yet." Edlyn scolded all in good fun, she had found a place in her heart for the young girl working for her, she was good company when she was here, which was becoming less and less. However, Edlyn kept the observation for herself; Túrante was free to do what she felt. She did add, however, "you can make sure everything is done in the barn, I have a feeling that Kieon never made it that far, poor soul, he is already asleep." She shook her head with a smile at the thought of her husband. They had been married since they were 17 and were both getting on up in their 60s. The young girl had shown up and wanted a job for quick money, she had seemed nice and caring so she agreed, and had yet to be disappointed, she took her in as the daughter she no longer had. she knew Túrante was different, she did not know how, but that did not make a difference to either.

"Of course, it will be no problem Edlyn." Túrante replied, turning back for the front door, with a passing glance at the gracious women who had taken her in. The family had never questioned her reason for traveling alone, where she hailed from, or even what she was or who. When she had come knocking saying she was looking for a house hold maid job or stable work, she said she needed some quick money. They agreed just like that, and so for the past year or so she had stayed with the old couple, and their grandchild-his parents were killed during the war. She found it hard to leave for more than a week at a time because of that little boy, Túrante guessed it was the elf left in her surfacing and the motherly need, she didn't know, but she didn't mind either, she like to know she could be more than just a monster, even though she no longer considered herself that.

She made it to the barn quickly, '_it's a good thing I cannot feel cold, this wind would cut right through me, _Túrante thought walking into the dark stable, the wind whipping her hair into her face, even with it pulled back-each strand was like a mini whip attacking her face. The was old, dilapidated, Kieon did not have the money to pay for all the extensive repairs that it needed, but they kept it in good enough condition that it would not collapse. The doors had a tendency to get loose and flap against the barn walls in a strong gale and the noise was enough to drive one crazy during the night. The thatched roof also had a tendency to leak in a hard rain, often to the horses dislike, they got drenched. She did not bother to light the oil lamps, her vision was perfectly fine and when she looked around she noticed that Edlyn was correct, Kieon had not gotten out to feed the horses. Taking her time and whistling an old elvish song, she filled the grain barrels and water troughs of each horse. Each horse dug in like it was his first and last meal of his life.

Túrante was just closing the doors to the barn when she heard it, far off in the distance she heard the thundering of horses, at least three, and heading in the direction of the house but on the main road toward Aldburg. In an instance she was in the air her white black wings beating heavily upon her sides, speeding towards the noise, the brewing storm making the progress harder than it should have been but it felt good to fly again, it had been too long since she had taken a flight. It was slightly uncomfortable and irritating to keep her wings retracted. In five minutes she saw the travelers, and knew them instantly- it was the King Aragorn accompanied by Gandalf, Faramir, Gimli, and Legolas. Something was off though; Legolas was being carried by Aragorn, undoubtedly injured and she was correct. About that time the scent of blood filled her nose and seared her throat, thirst hitting her full on, though the sensation only lasted a few short seconds, the advantage to being old-control was easy. She had to get them to the old house, because she could also smell a faint trace of poison, he needed her skills, the healer in Aldburg was good, very good in fact, but poisons were rare and many needed rare ingredients and Aldburg had none-she checked months ago.

She knew that she should not interfere, she should stay out of sight and help silently, stealthily, like she had been since the war had started and up until now, but the stench of poison was strong, Legolas she knew would not make it to Aldburg and once there, they would not be able to help him. Túrante had chosen to keep out of sight, if she was found out there was a chance that she would be hunted, or her kind. She did not know what would happen but it was a risk she did not want to take, now she was about to break that vow, she descended and landed in the middle of the dirt road, the travelers were just a turn from seeing her.

The horses were the first to sense her she could hear their pulse quicken, feel there tense muscles in the beat of their hooves on the ground, uneven and choppy. However, the riders spotted her first, drawing the steeds to a sudden stop. The horses were startled and half reared with skidding back hooves, smoke billowing from their nostrils. Once stopped their breathing was labored and hard. It was clear they had been at a gallop for a good distance; the trouble must have been far off. They were not scared of her but they were focused intensely on her, as were the men, however, unlike the horses, they were nervous.

"Who are you stranger?" Gandalf's voice carried across the wind. He was nervous, this person-woman-had just appeared, was standing there waiting on them. Gandalf had to wonder who she was; she was too far away to get a clear view of her. One thing he was sure of was her skin was pale, not pasty or sickly, but it seemed to glow like the elves, only more. Something seemed familiar, but yet he was not sure what it was.

"I am called Túrante master Gandalf, and you need to come with me." Her voice was not cold or stern but neither was it soft and fluid. It was a good medium, neither pleading nor commanding. It was all on purpose those, her heart was racing and her nerves getting worse and worse. It took a lot to keep her voice that steady even sound. She had actually done it, she had revealed herself.

"Milady, we have an injured companion, we cannot delay out trip to the city's healer." Aragorn had stepped up now, a limp Legolas lying oddly in his arms; he was unnerved by this woman that much was for sure. If she knew Gandalf's name she knew all of them he could assume. The thought did not comfort him, he did not know this women.

"He is bleeding baldly and has already lost a lot of blood, the sword that cut his shoulder was poisoned, the healer in Aldburg will not be able to help you, and he does not have the medicines." She gave away too much in that she could see his injury clearly at such a distance in these conditions, but at this point she had no choice, she had revealed herself and in order for them to follow they would have to have valid reasoning to do so.

She was still contemplating to herself just why she felt compelled to help them, and in doing so risking the safety and even more so her peoples'. Of course the answer was easy, even if it was hard for her to admit and accept. She had been traveling close to Rivendale around the time that Elrond had help the council that created the fellowship. There was something, she was not sure what, that drove her to enter the realm. She did not have to worry about being seen and captured or questioned. If invisibility was needed it was no problem, going unseen was a specialty Túrante had perfected over the years.

She traveled soundlessly through the trees, wondering, the feeling was different from anything she had ever experienced, at first she believed it was ring of power calling to her-she was a creature of evil, or supposed to be-but to her surprise the power of it repulsed her, made her gag, sickened her. It did not take long for her to realize the feeling strengthened when she was near a blonde haired elf, later she learned he was the prince of Mirkwood, Legolas. Now she was not drawn to him sexually, though even Túrante had to admit he was gorgeous, it was a feeling of peace, contentment, something she very rarely felt in her life. She like it. Simple as that.

"How do know you this?" Aragorn questioned, his voice jarring her out of thought.

He was scared and nervous, and he should be, not knowing what she was or who. She could see the look upon his face and in the tenseness of his body, and all the others for that matter, though they never spoke a word other than whispers to themselves, which she heard and ignored, they had plenty of reason to question her.

"I can see it and smell the poison, he will not last. So please come with me, I beg of you." She took on an urgent tone and a pleading look, which they could not see. She watched Aragorn and Gandalf consult with the others discussing their options and this person. During the debate she moved herself closer, clearly in their field of view now, showing she had no weapons or anything that could harm, not that she needed them to accomplish that, but she quickly drove the morbid thought away. The horses spooked slightly at the movement, they could hardly register her movement she was so fast. The men looked up. "Milord's?"

Gandalf sighed, the strain of the decision clear on his face, he looked straight into her eyes, noting the deep gold color and the pure depth. She was old, very old, and it seemed her eyes could see straight into your soul though there was no malice in them he could tell. "We shall go with you Túrante, we shall trust you. You can take Arod and lead the way." Gandalf pointed to the horse that would normally be carrying Legolas. The horse was a grey, he had gotten lighter in the past few years, but he was gorgeous none the less, or it could be her soft spot for horses.

She nodded and climbed up, immediately asking for a gallop without consulting the men, taking them in the opposite direction until they made it to the turnoff a half mile down. The path to the old house was long and narrow; they traveled one behind the other. The trees were thick and the undergrowth was creeping into the drive, making it seem almost uninhabited. They kept riding for a good ten minutes until finally the light of the fireplace in the great room could be seen through the trees. The men sighed; there was actually a house, which was inhabited, so maybe they had done the right thing they all thought. They all seemed to relax more and so did the horses with the release of the tension.

Edlyn's hearing was still greatly unaffected by age, she was already on the front porch waiting for the arrival of the riders. Once they had pulled in, she was down the steps in an instant, quickly seeing the injured man. She had not changed from her nightgown and had simply pulled on her robe, she must have sensed the urgency, Edlyn always seemed to. Her grey hair hung loose around her body, reaching down to her waist in soft messy waves.

"Túrante! Quickly take the man on up, and start working, ill get the horses." Edlyn stated sharply, grabbing Arod's reins as soon as she dismounted. She was still sharp enough to catch the men's protest before they could say them, or she just knew it was coming from having someone say it on a daily basis. "Men, I may be old but I am not helpless and I can still work, some of you will need to assist Túrante. Do not protest, go!"

The men decided not to argue and Faramir stayed back to help with the horses while the rest followed Túrante into the house. The strength of that woman amazed them amazed her to this day, and even in the dire situation she had to smile

"This way, bring him upstairs, he will have to take my room, none of the others have linens and it will take too long to fix them." Túrante's voice was soft but urgent and so Gandalf and Aragorn slowly settled him on the large bed. She knew she could have carried him herself swifter, but there was no need to further confuse the men yet, but she knew she would have to start talking soon and while part of her dreaded the task another part was eager, she had been keeping her secret for so long and had been away from her people for many years.

She immediately pushed past them, and cut through the fabric of Legolas' tunic, revealing all of the affected area. The cut was nasty, very deep—at least an inch and a half—and the poison was already beginning to fester and eat away at his flesh and enter his body. She could tell it was hours old, maybe almost a day, Legolas was lucky he was only infected with a small amount. The smell was strong, it burned her nose and she had to hold back a choking cough. Túrante knew the scent immediately once she got a close whiff; the poison was one she was all too familiar with. It was negricols, venom taken from snakes near her birth place. It was strong, very little could kill a human in hours, elves days depending on the amount. It attacks the flesh and muscles, eating away at them, turning them from a healthy pink to black. If it festered long enough without treatment the toxin attacked the organs and that is how it killed a person, it was painful.

"Are you a healer? Can you help him?" Aragorn asked his voice strained. His clothes were tattered and bloody, his face smeared with dirt and grime. The battle had been a long one and hard, he was exhausted. Though he still looked like a mighty king and intimidating through all the greasiness.

Túrante looked him straight in the eyes, "No I am no healer, but I can help him. This wound has been infected with a substance known as negricols, it a toxin derived from the venom of certain snakes. It eats away at the flesh and attacks the organs in the human body. If he was human, he would not have survived so long without a medicine." As she spoke, she watched him nod softly and she took it as a queue to get to work.

Flying down the stairs to the kitchen in only a speed she could achieve, she quickly grabbed a conglomeration of herbs and mixtures of her own that would stop and counter act the poison. Once back up stairs she first applied a clear thick liquid across the gash, it was one she readily kept handy for it worked for many poisons and infections. "This will start to burn him, and be painful. There is a chance he will scream or thrash and if that happens you need to be ready to hold him down." After speaking she looked at the face of the elf, noting his perfect features, he looked the same as the last time she looked upon him, but you could tell in his expression he was in pain. She didn't have to look to know the men nodded and as if on cue the trashing started, the men jumping to hold onto him without a moment's hesitation, Túrante sighed with relief, at least they were being helpful.

Túrante worked as hard and as fast as she could. Some of the ingredients in the cure were toxins themselves, but since they joined with the venom they counteracted it and were harmless to the person. Once finished the cream was dark velvet purple, perfect. She made enough to last for a few days so they could continue to reapply it. Aragorn, Gimli, and Gandalf continue to hold the trashing elf as she applied the cream. As soon as she finished and it sat a minute, the trashing stopped, Legolas was perfectly still.

"What happened? Is he okay, why has he stopped moving?" Aragorn questioned, worry laced his voice, and his eyes were wide. He had not expected such a sudden reaction to the purple substance she had just applied.

"He is fine milord, his pain has stopped because the medicines are doing their work, I added an herb to aid in relieving any pain he may feel. All that is left now is to stitch the wound up and let him rest." Túrante said but never looked up; she just reached for the suture supplies and got to work on stitching the wound. "He could wake up tonight or as long as a few days from now. it will all be determined by how strong he is and how much poison was in his system.

Once she had finished she began to clean up the mess she had made. She nerves were coming back; soon the questions were start once they got themselves collected. and she was right, Aragorn being the first to speak.

"Milady, may I ask who you are?" Aragorn questioned, the impatience getting to him. He wanted to know who this person was, he thought at first she was elf kind, but it was clear that her sight and smell and probably her other senses were much sharper, keener, than any elf he knew. And her beauty was enough to rival Galadriel herself, no elf could ever come close.

Túrante looked up, and there was sadness in her face maybe fear he thought, he could be sure. Her eyes pierced his, went right through him, but there seemed to be no malice in them or any such strong emotion. Aragorn believed she was about to answer when her eyes darted away from his own, turning her saw the child, wild eyed and scared in the doorway to the bedroom.

"Miss Túrante who are these people?" his voice was cracking and shaky. All the noise must have awoken him, pool child. it was late and he held his teddy bear tightly to his chest. His glance darted from person to person before focusing solely on Túrante.

Túrante began to walk to him, weaving between the men to get to the child. She kneeled down and reached for the boy, who jumped into her, hiding his face. She turned her head to look at the men, "I shall answer your entire questions momentarily milords, but first let me settle the child in."

She faced the boy, "Now don't you worry about the scary men, they shall not get you, it is me you have to worry about, and I just may have to tickle you to death." Túrante told the little boy who erupted in giggles when she reached for his tummy. Scooping him up and standing, she walked him to the room down the hall passing Faramir on his way to the room where Legolas was. Once she had him tucked in she told him goodnight and bade him sweet dreams. She wanted to stay longer, sing to him, read him a story, anything to stall time, but she knew that would not be possible. So she closed the door to face the men and the truth.

"So who are you lass?" Gimli asked in his gruff raspy voice and thick accent.

She looked around the room and thanked the Valar that Edlyn had not come up, she hoped she was down arranging places for people to stay, and would not hear what she was about to say. Then Gandalf spoke before she could.

"I believe Gimli we need to ask her what she is more importantly, she has told of whom she is, she is Túrante." Gandalf's voice was soft, inquiring, and knowing.

'_So he knows, he figured it out,' _Túrante thought with a sigh, she knew Gandalf would put out it all together, realize she had been with them all before not so long ago.

"I seem to remember a brief meeting with you in Gondor. During the war, on a ledge in Minas Tirith, I was confronted by a nazgul, the king to be exact. Then there you were, appearing as if from thin air to drive him back. I only got a quick view, but it was you, was it not?" Gandalf asked, though to her surprise he has a small smile on his face, not the frown or concern or even fear she had expected.

Maybe this was a good sign, a sign that she did not have as much to fear as she thought. Maybe these men would accept the truth and not care, only one other knew and she had taken her in with open arms, so Túrante decided she had to think positive that they would also.

"You would be correct master Gandalf that was I." Túrante answered with a shake of her head. Soon her secret would no longer be that, a secret.

"So I will ask again, what are you milady?" Aragorn asked in a soft voice, tentative, not sure if he really wanted to know.

Túrante stood to her full height of 5 foot 9inches and instantly her wings came and reached their full 25feet width and her fangs grew, "I am a vampire, a blood elf, the first damnation of Melkor."


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing that pertains to the Lord of the Rings it is the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien

Chapter 2

The men's faces as she expanded her wings was pure astonishment, their mouths were dropped open to the floor and their eyes bulging from their head. Instinctively the three of them reached for their weapons, scared of the unknown, this unfamiliar creature of legend in front of them. It was the reaction Túrante expected and the one she wanted. It gave her the perfect excuse to show her speed, prove that she truly was what she claimed. In one swift movement, faster than the men could register, she had all their weapons in her grasp and across the room laid in the corner, while she was standing in the same spot.

"I have no weapon upon me, you may check, you do not need yours against me for I mean you no harm. Believe me if I did, all of you would be dead already." Túrante spoke softly, her voice sounded young, youthful, but the men all knew that was a lie, they felt the power of it, the age, and the truth she spoke. "I will answer any all questions you have; I know you must have many. I feel maybe it would be easier if I told you a little story." She smiled at the men, who merely nodded, and sat in the chairs that had been provided in the room.

"I believe that a story sounds very nice Miss Túrante." Gandalf smiled and also sat, encouraging her to begin. And so she did.

"Before I begin, if any of you have heard the legends of the Blood elves then you know they crave blood as food, drink, nourishment. I shall tell you now I have never touched a living things blood, whether elf, man, wizard, dwarf, or hobbit. I cannot die, and I can eat any of the food you would, it just doesn't satisfy." As she spoke she retracted her wings and sat in the chair nearest her. The information she just told was something she felt they needed to know, maybe it would help calm their nerves and fears. "First, I will ask if you are familiar with the legend?"

The men did not answer, but all nodded dumbly, still a bit in shock and unable to formulate words, it seemed. So Túrante nodded and continued her story.

"I will not get to into specifics, or the history. We were created for the single purpose of control destruction and power. The elves were used first to make his creation but the elfin nature was strong as were the values, most of us did not succumb to the thirst, and have never touch blood. Humans however, were a different matter, they were greedy and craved power, and they fell to become the vampires of children's horror stories, true vampires that live off the blood of humans. They are now however all destroyed since the first age, killed by me and fellow blood elves that led the rebellion. You know the story?" and they all mumbled a yes. "Good, I will not have to go into that. So with the Valar's watchful eyes and blessing the few of us left in secret and founded a home in Fangorn forest at the base of the Misty Mountains in the northern corner. We were never discovered, the Ents never wandered too close, I can only imagine they felt our presence and it warded them off, but that is only a guess, and no other human or elf has wandered into our home. It has been a lucky break for us. There are few left, but we keep to ourselves and do not play a part in the dealings of the world—well until now. I broke the rule we had gone by, I involved myself in the dealings of the war of the ring, though in the background, keeping out of sight and in the shadows, but I was there. As Gandalf said, I warded off the nazgul and intervened a few other times when the fellowship managed to get in a sticky situation. I cannot truly say why creatures of the dark fear us; we have theories, but nothing concrete. For the most part I did a good job in staying hidden, I never wanted to draw attention to myself and my people, most would probably seek us out either for study or to destroy us. Once the war was over, I came here where I could easily get word of doings in the kingdoms, and be inconspicuous. I traveled home once or twice, but I find no ease or happiness there anymore, I prefer to travel I guess. Then you showed up, or more so I heard your approach and investigated. It took a lot of quick arguing with myself about whether I should or should not interfere and help or stay in the shadows the way I always had. As you are all here, you know my choice, though I cannot answer why I chose what I did." The last words she spoke were a lie, she knew perfectly well why she did, and that was the elf lying on the bed, her odd connection to him, it overruled her common sense and better judgment as it had for the past few years. The men, though, did not need to know this bit of information. "I will give you as much time as you need to think on this, and when you are ready answer any questions you have." Túrante added before she just sat in the quite room, feeling the questions stirring in their brains.

Aragorn was the first to ask her a question, "I remember you, briefly I think. It was by the Black gates, when the troll was pinning me down, no one could get to me. I remember seeing a blur of grey or silver, and the troll stumbling. I looked around but saw nothing. It was you, you flew into him." He asked.

"Yes it was I," she replied. It was not the type of question she expected to have to answer; she figured they would want to know more about how dangerous she could be and her thirst, or such questions. Not ones about how she helped them. "I also pulled you from the water once you fell from the cliff, though I doubt you would remember that." Aragorn shook his head no.

"And when the wargs of Isengard attack us on the way to Helms Deep, you moved the beasts off me as I was pinned below." Gimli more stated than asked as he rubbed his beard contemplating the person in front of him. "And during the battle, you moved Haldir. I thought it was just my imagination. I heard Aragorn yell as he was struck, and I saw the other coming behind him, then he was gone, vanished."

Túrante smiled, a soft small smile, with a nod she answered, "Yes Master Gimli it was I, I took him back to Lorien to be healed. I did what I could but at the time I could not have him wake in the air. I doubt he would have taken that too well."

"How were you able to just drop him off back in Lorien without the knowledge of Lady Galadriel? She sees all." Gandalf asked, sincerely interested in this woman. It did not bother him that she was created a monster, she had already proved she nothing close to the sort. And now hearing this tale, he felt grateful to her, she had saved him and many of his friends, for whatever reason. There was fear of her, he admitted, but before him was a powerful creature, that the nazgul feared, a creature that was created before the orcs, before the balrog, the very first creation or Morgoth—she even referred to the name he was rarely called—Melkor. But here Túrante was helping them, she was not the creature she was created to be, this much he was sure about.

"Galadriel is one of the oldest elves living on Middle Earth; I had the pleasure of knowing her before I was captured to be turned into what I am now. You must remember I am the first of my kind, and very old. She is one of the few who know what I am and therefore know me." Túrante spoke in her soft voice, watching the men take in just how old she must be and that there are many secrets of this land they know nothing about, but she saw the acceptance in them as well. Faramir she noted had been the only one not to speak, she did not know why, but she said nothing of it, she could feel his acceptance, but also his reluctance about her. He was cautious and wary.

_Could she really blame him though? I mean she was not supposed to exist, and she could easily hurt or kill him _she thought, _no I guess I cannot. _

After a minute or two no one else spoke, and she decided that it had been a long night, everyone had to be tired and taken in a lot; they all needed their rest. The men agreed and decided they would have a rotation to keep watch over their injured comrade and to apply the ointment. Túrante left them instruction how to apply it, how much, and where, before bidding them goodnight and heading out to her own little house between the big house and the barn.

Her little house was small, just three rooms—a small bedroom, a kitchen/sitting room, and a bathroom. Edlyn kept it nicely furnished and she was comfortable there, it was all she needed, nothing fancy or expensive but comforting and homey. The color scheme was plain, cream walls with green accents throughout, but it suited her natured and eye. With everything that had occurred this night she knew sleep would not come to her, or rest, so instead of going into the house, she walked past it and into the woods, enjoying the cool breeze blowing through her hair.

The path through the woods was narrow, two people would barely be able to fit comfortably, but she liked the closeness, the feel of the trees lightly brushing against her wings. She could see the white tip of them in her peripheral, thinking back to how they use to be raven black, and slowly they faded, until now the only black they had were at their base and a few streaks throughout some feathers. This fact did not bother, rather she liked the thought of them white, she felt less evil, less dark, and more like a angel—if she could ever even be considered something remotely close to that. Túrante liked to think she could one day.

The woods ended abruptly and opened into a wide grassy plane ending straight ahead into a deep cliff, overlooking the hills of Rohan. A herd of wild horses grazed on the horizon, tails flicking, and foals playing, irritating their mothers and the other adults in the vicinity. She smiled watching them, so free and wild and beautiful at the same time. It was peaceful, tranquil, exactly what she needed at the moment to clear her mind. Her thoughts wondered back up to them men much quicker than she had hoped, but to her pleasure she was still relaxed, so sitting on the hard earth, she let her mind go off.

Legolas was not mortally wounded, under normal circumstances, he should have been awake, albeit in an excruciating amount of pain, but awake. It was the negricols that made the injury life threatening. The poison worked quickly, and weakened him. There was more than enough toxin on the sword to have killed, more than most people would have used. The poison worked in mysterious ways. Sometimes the person would be completely out and other times, just in a state of deep sleep, but still able to know what is going on around them. Túrante hoped for the later, it would mean that he had heard all their conversations and would know about her, saving herself the trouble to have to repeat most of it, not that she really minded, but being that close to him made her uncomfortable. Sure his presence was soothing to her, but it was unnerving and so she was on edge. He r feeling were a completely oxymoron to her, and it confused her.

_Why in the world am I so attracted to him, an elf I have never met, why do I feel like I need to be around him to be at peace? _She sighed, there were very few ways to get the answers she wanted, and none are really ones she wanted to act upon. Mainly because then she would have to speak of her feelings and frankly that was a nit embarrassing, especially considering because of them she had broken the one rule her kind followed and she created. Keep secret and keep hidden.

Then her thoughts turned darker, who would have attacked them, and used a snake poison. It was rare for a normal person, elf, or dwarf to coat an arrow in poison, let alone a sword? How had she not thought of this sooner? All had been relatively quite since the end of the war. There had been a few random orc attacks of course but nothing serious and nothing aimed straight at the leaders of Middle Earth that is, until now. The travelers were obviously not expecting problems; they traveled without any guard, and traveled openly. This troubled her greatly, when she next saw the men she would have to remember to speak with them about their attackers. The sooner the better, but everyone needed some time to regroup.

Time and more time passed, Túrante still could not find sleep, she was wide awake and becoming restless, her thoughts lingering on the attack, so she did the only thing she could. She stood, dusted herself off, and jumped from the ledge. Falling fast, she spread her wings, instantly she stopped falling and the air sweeping around her wings, glided her through the air for a night flight through the cloudy skies. The storm would probably hit soon, flying was still hard, but the feeling was amazing—refreshing. So she flew and flew, disappearing into the night sky.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing that pertains to the world of middle earth and its characters; it is the property of J.R.R Tolkien.

I own all the newly introduced characters, they were created by me

I am still without a beta reader and am currently looking for one, so if you find any grammatical errors or such, please let me know and they will be fixed.

**Chapter 3**

The rain had starting falling by the time Túrante was almost to the house, when things changed. The storm no longer felt natural, something was off around the old farm house, and Túrante sped up, beating her wings as fast as they could go, and her muscles began to ache. The distinctive smell hit her as the lights of the house came into view. He was here—Eglanon.

Her heart pounded, so many years had passed, he had not made an appearance, and no word of him had been heard. Now he was here, but why? She could not think it was coincidence that just hours ago she had picked up the men and now he was here. It was Eglanon that attacked them, maybe not personally, but it was because of him Túrante was sure of that much. He was the only one who had gotten away. She could only make guesses as to why he would go after them, but right now that was not her biggest problem. Túrante had to get to that house before he did, hide the men as best she could for now.

Within seconds she was hanging from the window looking into the room where Legolas lying sleeping, and thank the Valar that Gandalf was in the room, though from the look on his face she had frightened him. Good, he needed to be, she thought before she yelled at him to close the blinds and get everyone away from windows and out of sight. He wanted to help, she could see it in his face, but she shook her head and he understood. Then the blond closed, and she felt Eglanon's presence.

Leaping from the window she hurled herself into his direction and hit him straight on, the tumbled through the air, a blur of silver and black. She slammed him into the closest tree, snapping it in half, and two others behind it, before the pair of them stopped sliding. Then he spoke.

"Ah, Túrante, we meet again. It has been far too long sister." He smiled after he spoke, seeing her face contort into hurt before rage filled it again. His smile was evil, manipulative, and it was genuine, which only made it worse.

Túrante bared her fangs and growled deep in her throat, a low rumble that slightly shook Eglanon, and his smile faltered ever so slightly. "You," she roared, "are trespassing on my territory, and I stopped being your sister many years ago, Eglanon." Her anger was rising with every passing moment. She knew there would be a fight between the two of them. There was a chance it would be a long one. She was faster stronger and her senses where greater, but feeding from human blood gave him burst of energy and speed that for a short time could beat her own, but she would not lose to him, she would die first, and being immortal, that was not easy.

"A bit touchy I see, and after so longer, I expected a warmer welcome." He spoke to her, before pushing her off his body in one swift movement.

Túrante landed, hard, but on her feet, facing the vampire, fangs still bared, and growls rumbling fiercely. She soared into the air, wings flushed against her body, before she went at him again. He was not expecting her speed, and her hand was around his neck and a shriek was emitted from his lips. Jerking the same arm quickly she let him go, and into a nice sized boulder at the edge of the cliff and in seconds his fists was connected to her jaw, sending back a few feet. Túrante felt the blood dripping from her check where his nails sliced through her skin. By the time she recovered, Eglanon was already back in the sky, and she joined him, chasing him back towards the house. She did not know if he knew they were inside or not, but she was not going to let him get close enough to find out.

With a burst of speed she caught him by the foot and tossed him to the earth. When he hit, his body sank into the dirt, creating a mound as he finally stopped. The thud was loud and shook the house. It was good it was a stormy night; it would sound like lightening, to the people in the house, who she hoped were out of sight or asleep. He anger was at its boiling point and Túrante was tired of playing games.

"Why are you here?"

He laughed in response as he stayed on the ground, looking at her. It was time to end this she thought, enough is enough. And in that instant she let the powers course through her. Her normally blue grey eyes, filled with golden light, along with her fingers, and her wings glowed with gold light. When the Valar granted her kind the option to stay in Middle Earth and live she also granted a few, that she saw most worthy, the ability to control elements of this world, and Túrante was one of them, she controlled light energy, mainly from the moon—that is when she is at her strongest—but she also gains energy from the sun. Her powers were heightened compared to others through her heritage. Instantly the laughter stopped and Eglanon looked upon her in fear, but he quickly regained his composure. He forgot just how powerful she was, especially in her element. It was a way to ensure that those who faltered from the chosen path could be destroyed forever.

"I was tracking a few men, and happened upon your scent, I thought I would drop in on this brilliant evening to see you."

Túrante walked forward, almost at a sprint at him. Eglanon began to get up, but she beat him, and the energy bolt hit him dead in the chest, the burned was instant and he screamed in both frustration and pain. "Leave, Eglanon," she spat.

He had forgot her strength and power, it would not happen again, he could not risk being careless and infuriate her to the point of reaching for her power. He started retreating and she was behind him, spinning around, he caught a face full of her wing and fell back down. Cursing under his breath he caught Túrante in the stomach, but she landed on her feet in a crouching stance, and very much resembled a feral cat and even more so with another growl escaping her throat.

They both lunged at each other simultaneously, and crashed together with an ear shattering bang, both falling backward from the other, but Túrante was just a split second faster and was back on him, throwing punches and hauling him by the neck again, she placed a well aimed kick in his abdomen. He howled in pain.

He had not prepared for this, and was the underdog, he knew if he stayed he faced the fact that he would either be seriously injured or even killed. It was in his best interest to flee, and that's what he did, though Túrante followed close behind him, giving warning shots every so often, some hit their targets, a and others missed. The burns would bother him for days. After twenty miles the chase stopped and she left to go back toward the house.

It took a bit longer to get back to the house, she was running into the rain, and it and the wind held her back. She would have much rather been flying but her wings were tired and she did not need to exhaust them, it had been a long time since she had expended so much energy. But soon enough she saw the house in the distance, and to her liking she saw the blinds were closed, but she could make out that it kept moving, and a pair of eyes would peer out. She had to chuckle, it probably killed them to stand inside and not be able to help. But if Eglanon was truly after these men she would have to teach them to fight against a vampire such as him.

Before she walked into the house she rubbed the blood off her cheek and felt where the cut should be, and to her pleasure felt that it was already held, it had not been deep and healed quickly. Opening the door she saw the men. Faramir was up In Legolas' room as was Gimli, Aragorn and Gandalf, however, her in front living room, pacing the floor. They all were about to bombard her with questions but she simply held up her hand, asking them to be silent for just a moment.

"Before any of you begin asking questions I will say this, it is late, and none of us have gotten much, if any, rest. Yes there was an intruder here, a vampire, but not one such as I, it is one that has escaped our grasp for many years now. For now, he is gone." She sighed and ran a hand through her wet hair. She very much wished to sit, but she was soaking wet right done to the bone. "First thing in the morning we shall discuss about the happenings of the attack on you and if this has anything to do with what went on tonight, if that is fine with everyone here."

They all nodded and agreed, everyone was tired, even she was a bit weary, but she would not be able to sleep tonight, tonight she would stay on the lookout, even though she knew Eglanon would not be back tonight, or for at least a few more days. Walking out the door again, she jumped into one of the old oak trees, and rested against one of its many branches. It was pointless to change clothes, though the rain had subsided, it was still coming down and this set of clothing was already saturated. Humming to herself, she sat, and she waited.

The rose bright in the sky, burning away the stray clouds from last night's storm, the smell of wet grass and rain filled the early morning air as the birds began their morning songs. Túrante stretched as she began to put on her clean dry clothes, taking in a deep breath of the sweet air, and smiling. Good weather always improved her mood, even with this meeting her and the men would have to have. It was not going to be a dreaded conversation, but it could possibly take awhile to get through. She had a little time left before that would come around. They would have to wait about another hour for Edlyn and Kieon to go out and start the morning chores of the farm. Then they would talk where nothing could be overheard from the older couple. The little boy would also be out of the way, he had to follow Kieon during the day to start learning the chores he may one day choose to take over.

Grabbing a few apples from the bowl on the little kitchen table, Túrante walked outside and decided to eat her breakfast outdoors and relax for a bit, she had not slept in a few days but she could quickly rejuvenate her energy without sleep if the time called for it, and it did. Sleep was an optional choice for the blood elves, not a necessity. But like any creature, they needed rest and time to recoup.

She heard the approach of the person long before they reached her, and she knew it was Gandalf from the sound of his staff hitting the ground in time with his walk.

"Gandalf"

"Hello, Túrante." He replied taking a seat beside her on the log she had chosen to sit upon. He had his pipe with him and a smile on his old face. "I see you are also enjoying this beautiful morning."

"I am, it is peaceful." She never turned to look at him, though she knew he was watching her closely, studying her.

"I agree with you on that fact, but I must change the subject. I feel for some reason I should know you, you seem familiar, yet I cannot place it."

This time she did turn her face to see him and smile, ever so slightly at the Maiar. "You did know me in a different age and a different place and a different name. It was very long ago." It had been so long ago, she was surprised she could remember it. When she had first been created into this creature she remembered nothing of her past, it all came back in short intervals, but she was old enough now to remember it all and had for nearly an age.

"Are you not going to tell me?"

He had asked her, knowing he would not get an answer from her, and she knew this. "Now is not the time. As much as I feel like I should and that you have a right to know, it is too soon yet. I know you are all trust worthy, I know all the history that goes with every one of you, yet I cannot myself trust you. Much has happened and happened quickly. Some things are best to be left for another day."

He nodded, "I knew something of the sort would be your answer, and I do not hold it against you Túrante, I hope one day we shall know who our savior is." He laid a hand on her shoulder as he left, a smile still upon his wrinkled face.

He was gone before she had a chance to ask him what he meant by that, our savior, sure she had protected them, but both feats were hardly enough to make her a savior. He knew more than he was letting on to. It was how it was with Gandalf though she had learned, he spoken in riddles and in clues if he wanted one to think, to be bothered by something he was not ready to tell. A lot like herself she had to admit.

Back at the house the men had gathered in the living room, the fire burning on nothing but coals, but that was all that was needed, it was a cool day, but it was not freezing or very hot. It kept the room comfortable. They had left the smallest chair closest to the fire for her open, and she sat in it.

"First off, we need to discuss the details of when your company was attacked, see if there can be any information as to who was behind it. I know as well as any of you that attacks such as this have not happened since the end of the war." Túrante looked around the room, expecting either Aragorn or Gandalf to speak first. It surprised her when it was neither, but Faramir that spoke.

"We were traveling to Edoras, to meet with king Eomer on dealings between the two realms, and to have a celebration for my marriage to Eowyn, who is already in Edoras. The attack happened not too far from here, maybe twenty miles. They came from nowhere; there were uruk-hai but others as well. Honestly, I believed them to be elves; there were only five of them."

"They were like me weren't they?" She asked, her heart sinking in her chest at the knowledge. He had found a way to create more monstrous creatures, not many it seemed, but made them none the less.

"Yes, only different at the same time. They had a look about them, wild, feral, evil. I wanted to go to them, felt drawn, but I knew in my heart I should not, could not."

"It is an effect they have on humans, as a way to attract them and get blood. Humans feel they should go to them, be with them, but at the same time feel scared and know something is wrong. It is good that you were able to fight it, you are strong, Faramir." Túrante told him. "I had feared this could happen, though I do not know how. What you have told me proves that the vampire that came here last night is the one behind this mess and it was not just a coincidence."

Gimli was now the one staring at her, seeming angry yet confused. "I thought that you were supposed to kill those that broke off the path and took to taking the lives of another? That is how the tale goes." Gimli asked in his gruff voice, challenging her.

It made her angry, and she wanted to yell at him, scare him, but she suppressed it. She had to keep in control. "That is true, but he escaped our grasp, many years ago, before the beginning of the second age. Never were we able to find him. This has been the first time since then that he has been seen. I already sent word to my people to begin their searches again." She fidgeted in her chair a bit, trying to get more comfortable before she continued. "How he was able to create others, I have no idea, I do not have that knowledge, and it troubles me."

"Can you tell us why this vampire would begin targeting us? Why now?" Aragorn asked her, rubbing a hand down his scruffy beard, concern filled his face and heart.

"I wish I could My Lord, but I have not the slightest clue, unless it has to do with power and control. Being able to rule, it would not surprise if it were true. But as for right now, the timing, I cannot answer, I had expected him to make a move with Sauron but he never did."

"Can we expect to be safe here until Legolas is healed and we can travel again and make it to Edoras?" Aragorn asked.

"Yes, Eglanon, that is his name, is injured and it will take a few days to recover, and even when he does his pride is wounded enough he should not try anything for a while. And if he does I shall be ready for him. Your company will be safe." Her voice was stern, they knew she spoke true and she was outraged, not at them, but this threat and she too was prideful.

"We thank you for that, Túrante." Gandalf spoke and they all nodded.

It would take awhile for them to accept her trust her and her them. She was foreign to them, a wives tale come true. It was a harsh reality thrown onto them far quicker than anyone could have been ready for but they all took it in good stride, and already after one day they were warming to each other, time was all that was need, as for everything in life.

She went to the kitchen to get them all some fresh hot tea, when Faramir yelled down the stairs, "Come quick! Legolas, he is waking."

In that moment all conversations stopped and everyone quit the task they were doing to rush upstairs, and Túrante took the moment to leave the house, give them all their time with the Prince.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing that pertains to the Lord of the Rings or the world/characters created by Tolkien they are his property.

I do however own any original characters: Túrante, Edlyn, Kieon, and the little boy

I have no beta reader at this time, so being human there will be mistakes in my work, so please if you notice any, let me know, and they will be fixed ASAP.

**Chapter 4**

Túrante made it her purpose to stay away from the house for awhile. With Legolas' waking up, then men were undoubtedly happy and relieved, but they still had much to explain to the prince, a lot having to do with her. She felt it was better if he were told by people he trusted rather than her, it may help smooth things along some. It was much to take in especially in a short period of time. They would be lucky if Legolas had merely been in a paralyzed state, and heard the conversation in the room; he would have had some time to think about it all on his own.

To pass the time she went to go find Kieon, find what chores she could start on to help. She had not been much help to them as of late, and since the men had arrived, none at all. The elderly couple needed much more help than they would ever accept.

Kieon was out in the field, plowing up old crops and weeds that had sprouted up. "Kieon, take a break, go eat, and let me finish up here."

"Now, now, Miss Túrante, that is of no need. I can do this, besides there is only a little left." He told her. His face however told a different story. Sweat was dripping from his face, his breathing was labored and heavy and he leaned against the hoe as if it was the only thing keeping him on his feet. She had to admire his will and determination, but she also knew that he would probably end up passing out here if he kept this up.

"You have me here to work and do the chores that take up so much of your time that you cannot get to the necessary things, so hand it on over, and see about getting into town with Edlyn to get supplies, I can do this easily enough." Túrante had to lace a little lies in there to get him to place the old gardening tool in her outstretched hand, but he did reluctantly do so and Túrante gave him a small smile and a kiss on his cheek. "Hurry now, you know that Edlyn hate to have to wait." She chuckled as he muttered things about that darn blasted woman he was married too

With him now out of the way she began working, it was easy, hardly used any energy or muscle, but it was work, it kept her busy and occupied. The only thing it did not do was occupy her mind, it was free to roam through thought after thought and that's exactly what it did. Túrante was highly troubled by the fact that it seemed Eglanon had found a way to create new vampires, it would make her clan's job harder and it could cause potential problems for every ruler in Middle Earth, because it seemed that's who he was targeting. People needed to be warned, trained, but how could that even be possible? After all these ages of hiding, pledging to stay hidden, keep out of dealings of the other races of the world, how could they just pop up and expect to be listened to? The problem was it now seemed that is exactly what they would have to do, Eglanon, was already making their existence known, and making this there fight as well. But who would listen, help, and know what to do? Galadriel.

It had been close to two-hundred years since she had last visited her old friend, and it seemed that soon, another visit would be called for. This one, however, would not be on such a happy basis, but one of war yet again. Galadriel was possibly one of the most trusted, powerful, and oldest elves in Middle Earth, next would be Elrond. If she had Galadriel, she could very possibly have all the other elf nations behind her as well; yes it was time for a visit to Lothlorien.

It may be the right time to tell Galadriel of her connection to Legolas, Túrante very much did not want to call it that or think of it in that sense, but she did not have much of a choice, it had to be something close to that, whatever it was. She was the one person she trusted outside her own home, her oldest friend, and the one with most all of the answers. If there was an answer she would have it or an idea to one, either would be a comfort. With a sigh Túrante stopped her thinking for a minute to look around at the field she was working on. Most of it was finished, only a small portion remained. Looking to the sky she judged she had been at work for a few hours, she had been working very slowly. It should have been done by now, but that's what happens when she focused on her thoughts and worries rather than her work.

Before she set back to finish the task ahead, a cool brisk breeze hit her, and she closed her eyes smiling as the wind played with her hair and brought the sweet smell of flowers her way. Túrante couldn't help herself and let the hoe fall to the ground as she raised her arms and welcomed the breeze. She opened her eyes and for some reason shifted her eyes up to the house; they went straight to the room Legolas was staying in. In the window she made out two figures, the distance between her and the house was a good bit, yet close enough to make out details. Legolas and Aragorn were there, though she was not surprise, it was like she expected him to be there and she knew they both were watching her. With a sigh she dropped her gaze, picked up the tool, and went back to working the field.

She finished up the field and turned to address the man at the fence. She had heard him walk up a good few minutes before, but chose to ignore the fact unless she was addressed and as was not, she continued working. She was however surprised to see that it was Faramir rather than one of the others, he was the least trustful of her and more wary. But she smiled at him none the less.

"Milord Faramir, may I help you?"

"Legolas wished to see you when you were free." He told her, he was not unkind in his tone but not exactly completely friendly either. It was what she expected though.

"Alright, I can head on up, I have nothing left to do."

Faramir just nodded and began walking back toward the house, Túrante caught up easily, but made no effort to begin a conversation; it was easy enough for her to tell that he did not wish to speak with her much unless he had to.

Once inside the house, she saw the door was open and heard from voices coming from it. Though she could not see that anyone was in the room, she knew that is where they were and she guessed that Legolas had retired back to the bed or a chair, being a man she guessed the chair, and she was right she saw as she walked in. The voices ceased immediately, and all eyes turned to her. Even as old as she was she suddenly became very aware of how unpresentable she must be at the moment wearing old tattered breeches and tunic with muddy boots. It did not help that she felt the dirt that was caked to her face.

Gandalf offered her a warm smile, which she returned genuinely. "Ah, Miss Túrante, I am glad to see you could make us some time from working, and as you know Legolas is now awake and healing nicely. Thanks to you of course." She nodded her appreciation.

"Milord" Túrante spoke to Legolas, bowing her head slightly, looking straight into his eyes. It took all she had not to drop her jaw and to keep her eyes from bulging out of her head. It was a shock to her system, even after seeing him last night, seeing him awake and looking into his eyes was a whole other story. Whether he had the same reaction she could not say, it seemed his facial features stayed the same. His face held a pleasant enough expression, he was a bit unnerved and wary, but that was the extent to which Túrante could pick up on.

"I owe you a thank you milady; you offered me and my company great help and assistance." Legolas said, a faint smile formed on his lips

"It was no problem, I am just glad I was able to do what I could." That was a big fat lie, it was a problem, maybe more so within herself than with anything else, but a problem none the less. And being this formal, and polite, it was difficult and stiff. It was not that she was rude, but it was an uncomfortable way to talk to someone.

"I remember everything that was discussed in here while I was unconscious, I heard it in my sleep I guess you would say, and the others confirmed it. I have to say it is much to take in and accept so soon, though I feel Gandalf truly believes it and you, so therefore I will as well." His voice as smooth and silky, but plenty masculine, it fitted him well. He stared at this woman in front of him, hardly seeing any difference in an elf and what she was.

His first impression was nothing like what he had expected. First he saw her out working the fields and then when she appeared in the room, it was like a slap in the face. Her beauty was nothing that could be rivaled, he knew that, but it was something else that got him. Like a force hit him and wanted him to push him right into her, like that's where he needed to be, by her side. There was feeling of security and comfort—peace. But the thought of having that pull toward a person, a woman, was terrifying especially since he did not know her, and the fact she was a creature created by evil, a thing that was never supposed to have existed, made it even more so. What he suppose to do about this?

"Now it I who must thank you milord, for your acceptance." Túrante told him, which by all accounts was true, it was a relief off her shoulders and a bit of worry she could toss aside. "I know it is complicated and can be hard to accept."

"I do however feel you should know that I do not trust you, I cannot make myself, but I am forever grateful to you milady." Legolas told her, and it was the truth. She had done nothing to make him not trust her, but that was not enough, he did not even know this woman in front of him.

"I understand completely, for I do not trust you either. It is hard to trust anyone that you do not know, even if everything you have heard of them pictures them as the most trustworthy individual. In the end it has to be one's own judgment." As she spoke she knew it would gain her a few little points, but it was also the truth, and everyone in the room knew that. She was happy to see the smile on the elf's face none the less; he liked her answer, understood it, and believed the same, as did every other person around her.

She wanted greatly to stay longer, but she knew that her presence was neither needed nor probably greatly wanted at the moment. It did not bother her all that much, knowing if she were in their shoes she would feel the same for a time. Then she remembered his wound. "Milord, your wound will need a new ointment and a dressing applied soon, I can go ahead and fix it up, or one of your companions can, I shall tell them what would need to be done."

Legolas contemplated the idea for just a little bit before he told her that he did not wish to take up anymore of her time and it would suit him just fine to have one of them apply it. She felt a slight blow to her ego and heart at the choice but nodded with a smile and proceeded out the room. She told them what to mix together and there was nothing fancy to the dressing, just wrap it good and to make sure it was changed regularly. "I hope your recovery is swift milord."

Túrante wanted to mentally slap herself; really she was going to let that bother her even in the slightest bit? What did she expect, she was a monster, a creature of darkness, and no one should really want to be in her presence. Then she had to kick herself for that though, too much of pessimistic thinking would get her nowhere, and it would take time for them to truly accept her and trust her. She should know this; it was no different for her. But she reckoned it had to do with the connection thing between her and the Elven Prince.

She wanted to take flight to release some of her thoughts and just be free, but the daylight did not allow that to happen too often, so Túrante opted for a walk instead and just let her mind slip away.


	6. Chapter 5

**ATTENTION! Well college has started back, so my updating will be much slower sadly, but there is not much I can do about that. This chapter is also very short which was not my intentional plan but im having a writer's block and wanted to get something to you readers soon. Hopefully you will be pleased and hopefully the next chapter will be longer and have some more action…*hint hint* lol**

Disclaimer: I own nothing that pertains to the Lord of the Rings; it is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien

I do however own any OC's that you see in this story.

Please inform me of any grammatical/spelling errors that you find, as I have no beta reader, I cannot catch everything. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

**Chapter 5**

She did not know what she was going to do. Would Eglanon try to attack them again on their journey to Edoras? Or lay in wait for who knew what? Her people already had word, she had received their reply the next morning, scouts had been sent out, spies, someone would find out something, but would it be soon enough? Túrante knew she wanted to go with them to Edoras, mostly the reasoning was selfish—Legolas would be going, and recently injured as well. But she knew she also had a duty, to get rid of this new threat, protect the peoples of Middle Earth, and to do that, she needed to be were Eglanon would be. That, Túrante knew would be near the leaders now sitting in the big house.

It was obviously apparent that she could not just go with them to Edoras. First they did not trust her all together and they were going mainly for personal business of Faramir's. She would be the center of questions to the town's people, but Eomer would have to know of this new enemy, especially since he would more than likely also be a target of Eglanon. So no, she would not join them, but she would follow them, trail behind them or ahead of them, it would not matter either way. If he came close, he would know her scent, know she was near and protecting them. He would have to be wary and cautious; an attack would be much harder.

After that Túrante knew she needed to go straight to Galadriel, talk to her about everything that had come to pass, though she probably already had some word of it, and she needed Gandalf there, he was there second best option and fighter against such a foe. But how to go about that, she had no idea, it was something she would have to think about another time. Now, Túrante had other matters to attend to, it was just getting started that was the hard part.

Where to start, where to start? She thought, rummaging through the desk in her bedroom, looking for the parchment she knew she had stuffed in there just the other day. After a good five minutes she finally put her hands on some and an old quill and ink bottle. She had the idea earlier in the day to write back to her home, ask them to send one of their top scouts and fighter to her here, help with protection and for backup, with Eglanon, she could not be too careful, and she did not want the men in any more danger. Legolas would not be in traveling condition for a good another week or so and in that time they were all more vulnerable.

Walking into the main she set her supplies down on the writing desk, here she had more space and she was closer to Legolas, but she pushed that thought aside quickly—it did not need to be in her brain right now. She also needed to speak with Edlyn about her departure, and what she would tell her the issue was this time, maybe say she was going back home? It would not really matter; they would accept and believe any story she told. Well maybe not take it for truth, but they would accept it like they always did. They never questioned her absences or her motives; the old couple just took it in stride and kept going.

Anyways with all her thinking, she had not noticed that her letter was completed and the ink from the quill was slowly dripping from the tip, staining the parchment with a splatter, until she heard a voice from behind her tell her so. She should not have been startled, but she was, and caused more ink to spill, with a silent curse, she smiled up at the man before her, "I must have let my mind wonder off."

Gandalf smiled back, "It is an easy thing to do in such a time. May I inquire as to who this urgent looking letter is to?"

"You may, I was actually about to go find you to tell you but as you are here, you have saved me some steps." Túrante rose from the desk and to the closest open window and let out long, low whistle. As she filled in Gandalf about her plan she tied the letter to a brown hawk's back, concealing the letter within its back feathers. "I have decided to ask my people for some assistance here. It will be, at the minimum, another week before the master Legolas will be able to travel, and after Eglanon's first attack it has opened my eyes and I realize he is after the leaders. You must be protected, so I am having one of my scouts come here to join me for that time to help ensure the safety of everyone."

"I do not how the others will feel about having another of your kind around; they are only barely accepting you." Gandalf told her.

"I have thought of this, though probably not like was needed, but he will not come within a mile of here, but be a patrol for the border of the property, and if a fight should occur, backup." Túrante knew that it would be a sticky situation, but she truly believed it was necessary. She also knew that the others had gathered behind her at the door, trying to stay out of sight. Vampiric senses did not allow that.

"Do you truly believe this is a necessary action my lady?" Aragorn spoke up, "We will not bombard you any longer than we must and we shall be on our way." His face was calm, but she could see the worry and wariness in his eyes, and the truth that he wished not be a burden.

"It is my job to rid Middle Earth of this threat, to keep the peoples of our world safe, I cannot do that with you dead. So yes, I believe it is something that must be done. However, if it is not what you want, it shall not be done."

"Call the letter back." It was Aragorn, again, who spoke, and for them all. But it was clear they all agreed with him.

"As you wish my lords." Túrante nodded her head towards them, her mouth in a thin firm line with frustration. This is not what she had hoped for; she had a bad feeling gnawing in her stomach.


	7. Chapter 6

***Attention* **Well I am finally getting around to working on a new chapter, I finally have a few days of free time to work on my story and have a few new ideas to go on. I look forward to hearing what your thoughts are =]

**Chapter 6**

She spent most of the next week avoiding everyone at the residence, she was mad. She needed the backup, as she could not remember the last time she actually had gotten any good rest; her days and nights were spent checking the perimeters she had set up and coming back to check on the men from a distance. When Túrante did have the time to rest, her mind was too filled with worry and dreads to allow a nap. The bad feeling that had been stirring in her gut a week before now had her in turmoil. She knew something was coming, she just did not know when and to top it off she had no new information on Eglanon. None of the scouts could find any leads.

Túrante stood from where she had been sitting under a large oak tree in the horse pasture, she had attempted to rest, only to have her thoughts bombarded by Eglanon and of fifty different possible scenarios that could occur. One thing was for sure, she was going with them to Rohan, though the men did not have to have any knowledge of it. They were leaving first thing in the morning, and she was leaving now. She was going to tell Edlyn she had urgent business to attend to and tell the men she had problem at home to see to, then she would begin her journey to Edoras, and have enough distance to be invisible to them, but have them in her range.

She already had a light pack ready and by the door while she went and talked to Edlyn. She also heard the breathing from the doorway. The men had gathered behind it to listen, I guess they had not comprehended the fact her hearing gave them away, even an elf could know they were there at this distance. But it was okay, it was one less story she had to tell.

"So how long you gonna be gone this time?" Edlyn's raspy voice asked her. She never looked up from her work in the kitchen.

"I wish I could tell you, but I do not know, it could be just a few days or weeks. I shall return as soon as the business at home is taken care of." She gave Edlyn's back a small smile.

"One of these days girl, you are going to go 'take care of business', and I do not think you will be returning." Though she never turned around she could feel Túrante tense immediately, or at least the tension build in the air.

"Now Miss Edlyn, you should not speak of such things, I said I shall return and I shall. I keep my word." Túrante replied crisply, Edlyn definitely knew more than she had let on, but just how much.

"I have lived a very long time and known many people, Túrante, I know not what you are but I know you are different, you are special, I don't know how, just that you are. Ah, no do not interrupt." Túrante shut her mouth again and let her continue. "I have felt it in the air since the men arrived, something has been here, and something is coming, I can feel it my gut. I have seen your scares, the night I found you. I know do not understand but if you do come back in time I will explain it all. You have many trials ahead, all I ask is that you make the right choices, you have come this far, you are strong Túrante, do not forget your heritage." Edlyn stopped speaking and had made her way to stand in front of Túrante and laid an old wrinkled hand on her cold cheek, gave it a small pat, and walked out, muttering about eaves droppers.

With a sigh she turned and followed Edlyn out of the kitchen and headed for the door. The child was still asleep, as was best, she never liked to have to tell him goodbye. The men eyed her curiously, figuring out what to ask her first.

"Where shall you be going?" Gandalf asked, adjusting his hands on his staff, a knowing spark in his eye.

"To my people, like I said I have business to attend to that cannot wait." She answered and tried to keep her voice from sounding too irritated, she did not know what to make of the things Edlyn had said to her. Things were not adding up. She had come to them, Edlyn had not found her. Plus there was the fact it would have been impossible for her to have seen the scars, they were almost invisible and not to mention never showed through the close she wore.

"Does it have to do with Eglanon?"

"Have you gotten any more news?"

Túrante held up her hand, they were all beginning to ask multiple questions at once. "I have no new information on him. My scouts have turned up nothing and so I feel with you heading out on your trip in the morning that I need to go help aid in their search. I know him better than any; I may find something they cannot." She hoisted her pack on her back and walked out the door.

"Thank you my lady for you great assistance." Legolas told her, and her throat got dry hearing his voice again for the first time in a week.

"Do not thank me my lord, not until you are truly out of danger." She smiled at his confusion.

"I am sorry I do not think I understand you." His voice was silky smooth and gentle, laced with confusion.

"You will, all in good time. You will. Now I must go grab a few things, and be on my way." And with that she walked out the door and to her little cabin.

Legolas still could not place the feeling that came over him when he was in her presence, it drew him to her, he could not deny it as much as it confused and terrified him. He was not even sure he could trust her, what she was. At the same time, he felt obligated in some fashion to her; after all if it were not for her, he would most likely be dead if everything she had said had been true. Whether it was the fact he wanted more answer, wanted to know more about her, or the feelings that had him following her steps to the old cabin he did not know, but before he could register it, her was in her doorstep, looking around, and starring into her blue eyes. Then he remembered something—gollum could not stand the touch of the elfin rope given to Frodo by Galadriel—so maybe his necklace would work the same way. If she was truly an evil being, the necklace would hurt her. It was worth a try he thought.

"Is there something I can help you with My Lord?" She asked Legolas as he just stood in the door way, in what seemed a sort of trance.

Her voice jarred him from his thoughts and he took a step in the doorway. "First of I wanted to thank you again for your help and assistance." He decided he did not want to use the term protection; it made him feel like an old useless man, which of course, he was not.

"You are welcome, it was my duty." Her voice was tight, her heart pounding in his presence, since he woke, this was the closest they had been and his presence overwhelmed her, but she choked them back.

It slightly unnerved him that she said she did it out of duty. Why not from want? Then he shoved the thought away, just because she jumbled and confused his feelings did not mean she was the same way. She had never met him up until a few days ago, and knew nothing of him. But then he replied, "Duty or not, thank you. I know you are going off and not to your home, and as a token of my gratitude, I would like you to take this." In his hand was leather strap with a pendant, she recognized the shape to be from Mirkwood, a symbol they often used in their designs. "It has always brought me luck and I believe it can do the same for you. I fear you face much greater danger than any of us."

She looked upon the necklace in shock and awe. Why would he offer this to her? Did his feelings truly match hers? Then she saw the charm, it had been blessed from a powerful elf, she guessed Galadriel or Elrond. So that was it, no feelings, just a test, she should have known.

"I am sorry my lord Legolas, but I cannot accept such a gift from you, especially a family heirloom." As she told him this she turned to face her desk and continue to search for her ink once more.

Walking up behind her with a bravery he had not expected, he shoved the necklace into her hand. "I insist, as payment for you help." Then he simply turned and walked out. He never saw her flinch, make a noise, or the necklace react in any way. So maybe she was not evil, maybe he had had no reason to trouble over the thought. Legolas shrugged his shoulder and walked to the house where the others were talking and discussing their trip.

"What will we do if we are attacked again? Last time we were vulnerable and they know that." Faramir asked the men, who were scattered about the living room, hot tea in hand that Edlyn had forced on them. Of course they did not decline them; it may be a while before they get another home fixed meal or tea.

"Túrante said he was injured and his pride hurt and that it would be a few days before he would try anything else. That is even assuming that he does." Gimli replied, letting out a large burp. Clearly not seeming to concerned over the fact.

"There is always a chance they could attack, especially knowing that we will be alone, and vulnerable." Legolas said walking in the room to join the men, his own cup of tea steaming in his hands.

"We are not vulnerable, all of have been trained in combat for most of our lives." Gimli said.

"Not against foes such as this, even if they are few in numbers, we cannot discard the fact they have many advantages over us, they proved that on the attack over here. Túrante also made her worries known, even if not directly." Aragorn cut in after much brooding over the subject. He would have like Túrante to at least have accompanied them, as much as he hated to admit it, they needed protection. However, her presence in Rohan would be questioned, bring up information that would put a damper on the celebrations; this was after all Eowyn and Faramir's wedding ceremony.

"Gandalf?"

"Túrante's help would be a good aide for us; however, at the time her presence in Rohan could cause more trouble than is needed. And as we know she has plans of her own. Now I have a better understanding of what is after us. I can be more prepared and fight better; we will not be completely vulnerable." He told the men, who seemed to like his idea.

Gandalf already has is reasons to believe that they would be receiving Túrante's help whether or not they needed it or wanted it. This, however, he did not tell the others. He felt they did not accept her quite as well as he did, they did not trust her. He kept his thoughts to himself and smiled at the men. Tomorrow there trip would begin.

She left quickly without as much as a word goodbye. Her plan was to travel half the distance to Rohan and back leave her scent within a mile of the path they would take, before traveling at a steady pace ahead of the men. It would insure the path ahead was clear and relatively safe, and that was her goal—keep them safe, at all cost. The journey was not a very long one and by the time dawn came she was sitting and waiting for the first signs of the men heading her way. By lunchtime she caught the first sound of movement a few miles down the road, she took a quick trip through the tree tops and confirmed it was the men.

The day passed with not so much as a leaf out of place. The sky was clear, and a slight breeze whispered through the trees. So far so good she thought and took a post in a tree not far away as they stopped for the night. She wished they had kept moving, but she knew they needed rest and so did she.

All the men began unpacking the bedrolls and started a fire; Legolas was the last to get to his. As he rummaged through his pack his hands landed on a piece of parchment he knew was not his, or one that he had placed among his belongings. Pulling it out and unfolding it, the charm he had left Túrante fell out and he read the short statement, "I am in no need of your payment Prince."


	8. Chapter 7

**ATTENTION: I want to apologize for the long wait, with school and the holidays things have been too busy for me to really get back into this story, plus massive writers block. However, I am working on the chapter and I hope its good and to all my readers liking.**

Also, I still have no beta reader, still in the process of finding one, so there are probably many mistakes, and I ask that if you find any, please let me know, they will get fixed ASAP.

I own nothing that pertains to the Lord of the Rings; it is the sole property of Tolkien.

I own all original characters.

**Chapter 7**

The men made it without problems to Rohan, and had now been settled in comfortably for a week. Túrante continued to set up a perimeter that surrounded Edoras for 5 miles in any direction. There was however, no sign of Eglanon. All was quite.

Túrante was restless. The days of walking the border and watching the men were boring, her mind was tormented with thoughts of Eglanon and Legolas the same. If it was not one, it was the other. When would Eglanon show up? It was only a matter of time. What does he have up his sleeve? He will not be so unprepared this time. What was Legolas doing, she longed to be in his presence, probably even more so since she knew she could not be. She felt like a child tempted to do whatever it was their parents forbade them to.

She could not fly to release any steam, she was going stir crazy walking in circles. Often times she took breaks, hid out on the roof of the great hall, listening to the drunks and the merry making below. It was usually a good laugh, and gave her new information. Of course she mainly focused on the men, Eomer and Eowyn, but some others had interesting news. Some talked about strange occurrences from their western border, people just up and disappearing. Túrante knew this was a definite sign of Eglanon's presence in the area, though a fairly good ways off, this took place a few days before, so he could be anywhere. It did however confirm her fears; he was after the men, going where they were going. Though neither Aragorn nor Gandalf acted like they had any explanations for the disappearances, she hoped they did, and would realize their precarious situation.

When conversations bored her, she would travel to find the nearest horse herd and spend time playing with them and enjoying their company, it was all she had for the time. The Mearas where the great horses of Rohan, the horse masters and their steeds were really as good as they were fabled, long strong muscular bodies, full of strength and speed.

The men planned to stay another three weeks, to be in Rohan a full month, when Túrante got news from her people. They believed they had found some sign of Eglanon, which brought a tough choice, leave them to further investigate while she watched over the men, or go and see for herself. The letter read that they had caught sight of his scent and what looked like a camp site of sorts. It was the Edenwaith, over the end over the Misty Mountains, above Isengard. The choice of staying would be easy if it did not coincide with the strange disappearances of people in the west.

A decision was needed fast, the sighting was less than a day old, and the camp was already abandoned, if she had any hope of finding his trail, she would have to leave and with a heavy heart and sense of dread she took off within the half hour. She could reach the site within a day at full speed and one rest.

By dawn the next morning, the sun was breaking through the thick layer of clouds covering the sky, and a light fog was lifting from the ground. She walked slowly around the area, surveying everything, down to the individual blades of grass. Túrante knew she was close to where the letter spoke; she could smell the stench of him still lingering amidst the air.

Once the camp site was in sight, Túrante stopped dead, the hairs on the back of her neck were on end, and something was off. It was a campsite alright, that was for sure, and Eglanon had been here, but no vampire would leave a campsite like that, in full view and without trying to hide anything. Secrecy was everything.

There was a chance he had to leave in a hurry, but even that chance was slim to none. He could have heard trouble miles away, he would have been fine. Finally she took the first few steps forward, with a large intake of breath, not sure what she would find.

There was nothing to be seen at first just a plain flat area just about the ground on an outcrop of the mountains. Old coals and a pile of unburned wood where left. She stooped down, running her hand lightly across the dirt, there was a slight raised area, almost too little to register, but it was there in an oblong rectangular shape. Standing up to get a better view, her gut twisted, it was a grave, the coals where put there as a marker, not a campsite.

In an instant she was digging, once the first foot was take off the odor began to seep through, not strong, but it was there. It did not take long before she had the top half cleared and the face below was staring straight up right through her, and Túrante jumped back. She was looking at the face of one of her trackers, Eglanon had been here, and he left his mark—death.

Once over the shock she kneeled back over and saw the corner of parchment crushed in the hand of the body below. With a shaking hand, she removed it, unraveling it with great care and delicacy.

'_I am sure by now Túrante that you are quite angry I am not at my campsite._

_Such a shame, you were just a little late, so was your friend. _

_He thought I had gone when he wrote you your little report._

_I thought I would be nice enough to at least let him finish, seemed only fair._

_I must apologize for not waiting on you, seems I some certain pressing_

_business in Edoras that could not wait. I hope to see you well soon.'_

With a great yell of frustration, Túrante kicked the remains of the fire, spewing ash and wood. Her anger was rising, he had tricked her and she never saw it coming. She made a mistake and left the men unguarded, and Eglanon had anticipated this and was now probably close to Edoras if not already there. Cursing herself she burned the body of her dead comrade, to hide evidence of their kind and took off with all haste back to Edoras.

She flew with all haste back, cutting out a fourth of the original time, reaching the city by the middle of the night. Eglanon's scent burned her nose the whole trip, his stench wafting all through the city and it was all because of her stupid mistake, her poor judgment, and desire to put an end to him after so long.

Túrante dropped down into the city, forgetting being secret, grabbing a cloak she shielded herself from the eyes of the merry town's people, recovering from their festivities and heading home. Either Eglanon had not made a move or everyone was too drunk to know. She hoped dearly for the first. Stealthily wading through the crowd she listened for any sign of their voices or talk of them. Gimli's was the voice she first heard and the wave of nausea building in her stomach slackened. He was at least alive and merry, maybe she had not been to late after all. He was in the Great Hall, but the others were not, though they left a faint scent she fallowed to the many rooms they lay behind. Many people passed her as she traveled the corridor, but none gave her a second glance, save a few children.

She heard voices at the end of a hall to her left, walking down a bit she found a bathing room and slipped in; its wall was close to the King's chambers. She heard a voice she did not recognized, she took a guess it must have been Eowyn, no other female would be back there. Next she heard Aragorn and Gandalf and sank to the floor in relief. She had not beat Eglanon here, but she had beat his attack, which was good, but that still meant the men were in danger.

Then she heard footsteps right down the hall, she had been to wrapped up in listening her guard went down, she had not heeded the dangers of hiding out in a commonly used men's room, and there was nowhere she could hide. So she decided to walk out, making she made a wrong turn.

As soon as she opened the ornately carved door she was face to face with Faramir, who seemed way more startled than she.

"Hush now, do not utter a sound." Túrante pleads, "There are people who need not know I am here." And she ushered Faramir in. Reluctant he follows.

"Why are you here?" His voice is stern and nervous, being close to her unnerved him greatly, especially meeting her unaware.

"I followed you; actually I traveled ahead of you. I could not let you travel without protect, it was folly. But I have failed you and I am sorry." She did not place a comforting hand on his shoulder; she simply looked him in the eye and told him how it was. "I was tricked and lead away from my charge, he is here now, and none of you are safe here anymore, for he is out of my sight. Your best option is to flee to Lòrien at all speed, I cannot help you here."

There was great worry now creased upon his face, and a battle within himself to either trust Túrante or to not.

"I will not force your choice on you My Lord, I will however ask that you tell the others, and heed my word." Túrante gave him one last pleading look and opened the door.

"Wait! What shall you do?" the man asked her.

"The same I have been, all that is in my power here to help you."

With that the door clicked behind her and she was gone. She was outside the boundary of Edoras in seconds, safely out of view. They were safe, now weather Faramir said a word to the others she did not know and whether they would heed her she could only guess and hope. The next few days would tell.

Five days had passed since the letter arrived and 3 days since she encountered Faramir and no sign of them leaving had been made. Túrante was growing restless, the smell of Eglanon was growing fainter, and he had not been returning her since her arrival, leaving her more concerned than anything. If they waited another two weeks to leave Edoras, it could mean a bad outcome; especially since she did not know what it was he wanted these men for.

"Gandalf."

"Hello Túrante, I had hoped to find you sooner." His voice rang through the silence.

"I made it easy enough for you too, had you wanted to. I wish though, it had been with more haste." Túrante told him.

After her rounds that morning, she had caught sight of him leaving Edoras alone, heading towards the mountain outcrop she had chosen to stay most of the day. She headed straight there and awaited his arrival.

"Well your meeting with Faramir caused quite a bit of upheaval between us. I needed to settle things with them before I could counsel with you."The wizard took a seat on a close by rock. "They do not wish to cut the visit short, and bring unnecessary attention to anything that may be going on."

"Unnecessary attention? The greatest men alive, the leaders of our world, are being tracked and hunted by one of the most deadly creatures imaginable, this is not something to be trifled with." She was on her feet yelling, though keeping a good distance from the wizard. "Do they not care what could happen if they died and he lived? What middle-earth would be without them?"

Her voice and temper had no effect on Gandalf, he acted as if they were having a normal everyday talk. "And by so being the kings and lords of our world, they are free to make their own choices. They do not trust you, they trust each other and are doing what they believe is best."

"And what do you say wizard? I see them making the worst mistake of their lives."

"I do not know what kind of enemy we are facing, if he is indeed more dangerous than you, they may very well be. But I will follow them now in their decision; it is not my place to counsel anymore." He rose now, "I do ask that you watch over them, they will not go to Lòrien."

"Then they will never be safe from him. Lòrien, is the safest place there is now, even for now, Eglanon will not venture there." She sighed and rubbed her face, "Like I said before, it is my duty to keep them safe, and I will do that so long as I can."

Gandalf nodded, leaning on his staff he walked out the outcrop and back towards the town. He left Túrante there alone, to worry about was she would have to face next.


	9. Chapter 8

I own nothing that pertains to the LOTR, it is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien

I own any original character in the story

I sadly am not getting very many reviews, plenty of story alerts which I appreciate but I would love more reviews, just to hear everyone's thoughts and opinions!

Oh! And as promised, here is more action ;]

**Chapter 8**

What were the men thinking? Did they not witness her fight with Eglanon back at the farm? Legolas first hand felt the damage he could inflict. They knew he was after them and they knew they were in danger. _Stupidity,_ She thought, _this is one enemy they cannot face alone._

What was she to do? The men would not leave early and they would not head to Lòrien. As long as they were together things would be better, once they split up, however, things could get out of hand fast. She did not know why Eglanon wanted them but she did know that they would never be safe until he stopped. The reason he was going after them now was simple, they were all together which equaled less work for him and time wasted.

Frustrated as she was Túrante she continued patrolling, making circle after circle around the city, at night she wandered through the streets checking for anything that seemed out of place. Nothing was of course, it had not been since her arrival here, now almost 3 and a half weeks ago, the end of their stay was coming to an end. She took time to check each traveler and even though the night was late she saw that Eowyn and Eomer were still up, talking about wedding arrangements still. Other than diplomatic topics, it is about the only thing that was discussed. It was way more work and problems than what it was worth in her eyes, but it was not her life. She continued on, heading back to the mountain outcrop.

Then she saw it, a faint shadow in the sky. If it had not been for the swift movement and starry night, she might have missed it. In her heart she knew, he was making his move. Eglanon had come, and yet another battle, this time far closer to civilization that she wanted. If they hit a tree or the ground, people in Edoras would hear, though it would sound like thunder, they would hear and that was trouble enough without Eglanon being involved and the men unaware. She had no time to warn them.

Without a second glance she ran with all her speed outside of Edoras, there was no point in trying to stay hidden, if she had seen him, the he had most definitely seen her. Then she pushed off, soaring into the night sky, white wings beating furiously, a white streak through the night. Her timing was slightly off and she came level inches behind him, a smirk was what greeted her. With an angry beat of her wings she had him tightly by the ankle, stopping her flight instantly and his. Turning, Túrante slung him with all the force she could muster in the opposite direction.

They went at each other this way for countless minutes. Eglanon would grab her, send her sprawling through the air, then she would follow suit, stopping his progress. This game of tug of war was getting nowhere, neither was gaining or losing and she knew this so doing the only thing she knew to, she threw him straight into the ground sending a resounding clap of thunder and vibrations throughout the area. She landed shortly after his landing, powers coursing through her body, gold light illuminating the night.

In the back of her mind Túrante knew that her gifted powers made the fight somewhat unfair, and she did not believe in unfair fights, but in this instant she did not care. She embraced the power she felt coursing through her body, she wanted nothing more than to end this here and now.

When he rose from the dented earth her sword was ready and waiting and he took her challenge with a steely glare, sword held high.

"Now you shall meet the fury of Maicaril, may she show you mercy." Her voice floated through threw air crisp and cool, and she attacked.

Her movements were smooth and fluid, quick and agile. Túrante attacked with an onslaught with no mercy, she was out for his death. For one of the few times in her life she was doing what she was created for, battle—killing. Her mind was focused on nothing else, but the movements of his sword opposite hers.

Sparks erupted into the air every time the swords touched, the energy of the powers sending shock waves of power to Eglanon. She saw no purpose in waiting for the hard strike, she wanted it done. He had to parry strike after strike, never adding in any of his own, he never had the chance to. Eglanon took advantage of her deep concentration of his sword and she never saw the sudden motion of his left foot. It caught her behind the knee and she was down before she knew what happened with Eglanon already atop her swinging. At first it was all she could do to keep blocking him. But then she smiled, and he slightly faltered. With a burst of light shooting from her, it sent Eglanon into the nearest tree, smoke issuing from around his chest.

She did not give him any opportunity to move, she was on him again, landing a hard punch on his left check, cracking bones in a sickening crunch. He cried out in frustration and anger, this was not how he wanted the fight to go, he would have to end things sooner than he wanted, the human blood had not lasted as long as he wanted, _Weak humans. _

Once he got himself away from the tree he had been pinned to he began his own attack, they were matching each other move for move, his mirroring her own. It was easy to see she had been his teacher; their techniques were very much the same. Túrante parried a blow, spinning quickly to the left and away from Eglanon, letting lose another bolt of energy, which hit right in his shoulder. He let out another cry of pain as the energy burned his skin and sent him into yet another tree, this time it shattered and he fell down below its trunk and it gave him his opportunity. He had his bow in hand instantly.

It was not a second later that Túrante's form appeared in the air heading straight for him, the arrow was released. There was not much time to react. She saw the bow and the arrow being released, straight for her heart. She knew she could not avoid it at such a close distance, but she could move her heart out of the way. It would not kill her of course but it would cause her to never heal the same, she would be hindered by it for the rest of her life. With a last minute decision she turned her body to the left right as the arrow hit. It penetrated her right shoulder, the point piercing all the way through.

She hit the ground on her feet but skidded a few feet, all the while sending energy bolts at Eglanon one after the other in a never ending sequence until she halted. She was angry she had let that happen, she had acted to soon before thinking, Eglanon did not play fair and he would never fight her fairly, Túrante knew she could not forget that again.

When the smoke began clearing she was hovering in the air, watching his form slowly start to rise from the ground, his body covered in burns that would not heal easily. She dove before he could react and hit him with the hilt of Maicaril, knocking him back over but he was quick to recover this time, and was on his feet smiling. He darted at her, aiming a kick for her gut, she jumped back and into the air.

"It seems soon my sister, we shall have company." His smile grew bigger, when she jerked her head toward Edoras.

She never had the chance to see the riders before she felt the sharp point of a sword on her and blood trickling down her skin; he had sliced her across her collarbone, misjudging his distance. Had he been much closer her could have had her. An angry growl gurgled in her throat, echoing in the night. She went at him once again when a sudden pain erupted throughout her body. It was nothing she had felt before; it was as if something inside her was being ripped out. It did not come from the wound she had just received, this was different. She hit the ground hard, struggling for breath that she could not get.

She barely saw Eglanon heading towards her sword in hand, he swung and Túrante did her best to block, it was a feeble attempt. Crawling to her knees she tried to fight the pain and get up, but she could not. Scrambling around she kept blocking his shots as he threw them at her.

"What have you done to me!" she screamed at him, voice cracking in pain.

His laugh was terrible to her ears; it seemed to rattle her being. "Do you not like my new invention? I myself find it quite interesting," His voice mocking her as he kicked her straight in the face, bringing blood gushing from her nose and lips. She fell on her back and laid there.

"What have you done to me?" again she screamed.

"Oh it is just a bit of poison, but do not worry it shant kill you. At least I do not believe. You are just being stripped of those powers the Valar gave to you." He told her, his smile growing ever larger.

"No, no, no," she whispered shaking her head in disbelief, losing faith.

The pain began to increase and she saw a golden light began to grow from her chest. What was going on she had no idea, with a strangled cry of agony her back arched and the golden light seemed to burst into a million tiny pieces in the air. She completely collapsed unconscious on the ground.

"Ah, my company has arrived, I must disappear for now." And with that he drew into the shadows and the riders stopped, feet from Túrante and dismounted.

They all crowded around her crumpled body, Gandalf taking the moment to turn her over and to hear the sharp intake of breath from the others with him. The arrow, so deeply embedded, could only be seen from the feather at the end blood clotting around it. There was blood everywhere, mostly from the gash across her chest; it was deep but already healing. And her face, it was caked in dirt and dried blood.

It was first Aragorn who spoke, "I fear, my friends, that we should have heeded her warnings." His voice was stern and grave, he was worried. He had watched her fight this Eglanon off before and he had witnessed her enhanced skills and traits. If something could truly do this to her, they were in trouble.

"I daresay you should have." The voice spoke from the dark.

All the men jumped up, weapons at the ready. Of course he was not worried, the only one who posed a threat was the wizard, and he knew there was a chance he would have to leave him behind. He seemed more trouble than he was worth.

"Who is there? Show yourself!" Gimli ordered.

Eglanon stepped out the shadows, he hated his clothes were torn and shredded, he wanted to bring a far better impression to his new captives, but it could not be helped. With his hands behind his back he strode into their sight, watching them take a step back from him and he smiled that wicked smile once again.

"Eglanon." It was all Gandalf said.

"Ah, well it seems you have heard of me, I hope it was all good. I would hate something to spoil my reputation." He spoke back.

"Come on what are we waiting for, we should kill him now where he stands." It was Gimli who know spoke again.

Túrante behind them began to regain her senses, sadly only her hearing was coming back and slowly. It was as if a long iron tunnel was attached to her ears.

"You may try."

They all charged, Legolas shooting arrows at a target they never hit. It was a quick shock that he was no longer there and fear gripped them. It took him a short matter of time to knock them all unconscious, except the wizard who was still posing problems as he expected.

Gandalf though he looked old, was much more, and a true threat to him now, he carried much power. He did not want to risk the others waking, it was wasting time and could ruin his plan if Túrante woke up. He still did not know how the poison would affect her, he hoped it would bring death but that was something he would have to wait and see. With a quick motion he swiped the wizard with the back of his hand and let him sail through the air, it was a lucky hit, he caught him unprepared. Then he gathered the men and took off into the night.

Gandalf slowly made his way to the vampire's side, brushing hair from her face, and wiping awake blood. He felt a small pulse and knew she was alive; he placed a hand on her chest and gave her a little jump start.

Túrante's eyes shot open and she took many deep and labored breaths, looking around and taking in her surroundings before focusing on the old wizard's face. Her eyes pleading for a response she knew would not come from his lips. He just shook his head in response.

She laid her head back down on the dirt, just laying there. She had failed, somehow she had lost her guard, forgotten how Eglanon fought, and she lost her powers, her one main advantage over her enemy, the one thing she had be leaning on and been counting on to defeat him. Now she had nothing, no way she knew to save the great kings of the world. She closed her eyes in despair.

"Get up Túrante." Gandalf's voice broke into her silent sorrow. And she looked at him.

"I have failed you all," She replied, void of emotion. She began to stand, her whole body ached and felt worn and stretched, and she felt empty.

"No, Túrante you lost one fight, I fear there are many to come after this night."

She looked at him and saw the strength in his eyes and determination and immediately scolded herself for losing hope and giving up. She had a duty that was not over. She had pledge to save the men and to protect them, that is what she planned to do and this time she knew she was not alone. Gandalf was there and he would not let them suffer any more than she would. It lightened her heart to have him with her, to have someone on her side, to not be alone. With a deep breath she straightened against the pain and Gandalf smiled, they would be found and they would be saved.

"We must leave soon. Eglanon will travel fast and with no stops, to where ever it is he lives. Normally it would be impossible to find his trail but he cannot fly with them men with him, and even if he has his minions to help carry them they will go by foot. They will leave a trail. However, no matter how fast we go, we shall never catch up." She told Gandalf this, looking into the woods where she saw they had been dragged.

"You are correct; we should grab supplies from Edoras and leave immediately." He agreed with her, as much as it pained him he would slow her down but he knew she would stay with him, and even though she did not mention it something major had happened and she was not as well as she seemed, he saw it in her eyes and whole body.

"What of the Lord and Lady?" She asked him, it was not something that could be avoided. There would be questions and if they did not the truth, they would end up thinking them dead after a long enough time without any news, for they would find none.

She watched Gandalf solemnly and guessed his answer before he spoke it. His face was sad and it was not just for the men but for her as well. He knew this is why she stayed secret to keep her people safe and now he had to ask her to break that vow; he had to make her waste more time.

"We will have to tell them, I fear I cannot see another way that we could choose."

Nodding Túrante turned and headed for the horses, she mounted Arod and Gandalf, Shadowfax. With the other horses following they galloped to the gates of Edoras and straight to the halls of the King, where once again she was going to reveal herself.

She was standing in front of the Lord and Lady of Rohan, watching Gandalf try and console the crying maiden and having the King eye her warily, a stony look in his eye. He was going to be much harder to convince than any of the others so far, this was very apparent on his face, and Túrante's heart dropped, she could not afford to have him against, not now.

"Gandalf." Eomer spoke, gaining the attention of the wizard.

Gandalf stood up, placing a hand upon Éowyn's shoulder and walking towards Éomer. He stopped beside Túrante and inhaled deeply. He had already told of the men's kidnapping, now it was time to try and explain this new enemy and the woman beside him.

"This new threat is like nothing any of us have encountered before. Before I begin, I must ask, how familiar you are with the history of Morgoth?" he asked the tall blonde man.

Túrante took this time to access the King. He was tall, long blonde hair, muscular, and had the features of the line of kings hailing from Edoras. He was the prime example of the race of men. His face was stern and at the same time, handsome by the standards of men. From the little she knew of him, he was a good leader and King, the people loved him. His sister was the shield maiden of Rohan, betrothed to the now missing Faramir. Túrante could not help feel guilt that it was her fault she was feeling such grief as she was now. Éowyn, was as fabled the beauty of Edoras, and she could see why. She had long wavy golden hair, sharp features, and would catch the stares of men easily.

It took a few minutes for him to answer Gandalf with a shake of his head, but he gave Túrante an untrusting glare from the side.

"It is as I figured; maybe I should let the Lady Túrante explain better to you." Gandalf, stepped back and looked at her, she only gave a slight nod in reply.

"It was before the start of the first age, before even the orcs were created, Melkor or Morgoth, captured a host of elves that had come to Middle Earth and with his evil tried to corrupt them. Creating the race he called vampires, or blood elves." She paused for a moment, watching his eyes widen.

"However, at first his plans did not work, he could not complete overcome the nature of the elves. Though we still raved the blood for nourishment many of us could not commit the crime of the death of another for our own need. Others killed themselves in shame. We were trapped in his fortress of Angband, kept secret from even the Valar.

It took many years, by now the orcs had been created and the balrogs turned to his service, before the true vampires were created. The first failures were used to train them and teach them tracking skills, fighting tactics, and other things that Melkor ordered."

She paused here again, taking a few deep breaths, "Soon there was a revolt, those of us that remained true to ourselves, that never touched blood, destroyed the others. It was a long battle and we probably would not have succeeded had it not been for Melkor being distracted with ending the siege of Angband.

Of course during our revolt, the Valar were called upon, and upon his exile we of course were discovered. The first choice was for us to be destroyed, but we pleaded our case. None of this had been our choice, we killed those that turned completely, we just wanted to live and have a life of our own. We were granted our wish with conditions. Any that turned and took blood, would have to be killed, if we failed in this we would be destroyed and we would always be watched closely, till the end of our days.

We settled in the far northern corner of Fangorn, at the base of the mountain, and have there remained, out of site and history. I, however, came out during the last war of the ring, and followed the fellowship and gave aid when I could in the shadows, unseen."

She looked back at Gandalf, wanting him to take it from there, but Éomer spoke first, and angrily.

"So tell me, where this new enemy fits in to this tell?" he growled at her, eyes narrowed.

"He escaped our grasp in the second age, we have been tracking him ever since and failed to ever find a trace. It was not until a month ago that he ever made his presence known again when he attacked the men close to where I was staying." Túrante replied.

Gandalf then stepped in, "I know, Éomer, this is much to learn in such short notice, but I beg o you to heed her story and trust her in this. It was a mistake we all made when we choice not to listen and leave for Lòrien. Now we must face this new evil." He laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we cannot waste time in their rescue."

Éomer seemed to calm some at Gandalf's words, his muscle that had before been taunt and ridged, smoothed, he softened his eyes to Túrante. "You trust her?" he was looking at her but asking Gandalf.

"Aye, I do. It helped I knew the story, yet I believe her word."

"We must ride out tonight. We have no chance of gaining on him, but we all possible chances of following his trail while it is still fresh, Milord." She told him

"Then we shall ride now, Éowyn shall rule in my stead until our return." Éomer announced to them all, Éowyn at this point raised her head.

Túrante saw in her eyes she wanted to go, but there was a conflict in her eyes. She had a duty to Faramir but also to her people, they needed a leader and it was clear Éomer was to ride with them. She stood up, her face red and tear stained. Walking to Túrante she grabbed her hand, wanting to recoil from its cold state, but she did not. Looking into the taller woman's blue grey eyes with her own, she spoke.

Túrante was surprised to hear her voice come out strong and clear, she had a strength in her, Túrante already held respect for this human woman.

"Bring him back to me."

It was all she said but the look in her eyes was enough, the anguish and sorrow there was overwhelming and Túrante closed her hand around Éowyn's, "With all that is in my power, he shall be returned My Lady."


	10. Chapter 9

Attention: I own nothing that pertains to the Lord of the Rings, it is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I do however own any created characters.

_**Please**_ take the time to send me a review of the chapter/story. I would very much like to hear everyone's opinions and be corrected of any mistakes I may have made.

**Chapter 9**

Traveling would have been must faster had the men not gone, but there was no persuading them otherwise. It would slow them down, they could possibly lose days and on a trail that was hours old by now. Éomer had already given her free reign to pick any horse of her choosing in the heard they had gathered just days before. They were fresh, young, and strong. She never rode much being a vampire, but back home she had plenty of horses, they were calming and enjoyable. She wished now she had not left her mare behind. She searched through each horse, wasting precious time, but the horse she picked had to be special to face the perils they were riding into.

She found a high spirited mare, a gorgeous dark grey with long legs and a strong body, her thick neck, arched proudly from her shoulders. The Lord Éomer pointed out they had many faster horses than she.

"But she has heart, and on this journey it will all be tested to the end." Túrante replied, stroking the horse's side. She had calmed instantly in her presence but still pranced about eager to ride.

Within the hour, the three companions were riding off away from the great city of Edoras; it was sinking slowly down into the hills behind them. Wide open grassland was surrounding them and covered the land as far as the eye could see, except for a small area of trees in a little valley off to the west. This is where they were headed, to the spot the lords were taken just hours before.

Drawing the horses to a stop, Túrante dismounted and surveyed the area. There was dried blood from here wounds and a mess of horse hooves scarring the ground. Stepping to her left she saw the marks of where the men had stood before they were knocked unconscious and taken. They were drug two at a time to the other edge of the wood. Here they were dropped and different tracks appeared. It seemed Eglanon had loaded their bodies on some sort of cart and hauled them off on it, and distinct wheel indentions marred the dirt. The tracks were plain to her eyes, and for now they would be easy to follow as long as the cart stayed in use.

"From here it seems as though the tracks head west for a good way, I shall guess they are making for the gap of Rohan. From there it will be any ones guess. They were put on a cart and hauled off, I do not know if you can see the tracks but I can. We shall leave now and travel through the Gap. After that we will have to take a break and calculate our next move." Túrante told the wizard and the man.

"If that is what we must do, then let us ride." Gandalf answered.

With that they spurred the horses into a gallop, following Túrante's lead into the night. It was a clear night, not a single cloud could be found, only the sparkling stars lit up the dark. A slight wind blew, but with the speed of their steeds, it stung like bee stings upon their skin, though it was of little concern to the travelers.

It was near dawn when the Gap of Rohan was before them, the trail had lead them towards the northern edge of the Gap, near Isengard, the abandoned tower that Sauruman had once dwelt in. The paths here were getting rocky and the trail, harder to read. It was frustrating to Túrante, and to the others. Time was against them and without a clear trail; they could easily get off track. It left her no choice but to halt the travel for the time.

"We need to rest here until the dawn arises and I can run ahead and find where it leads. The rocky outcrops are too difficult to read in the dark. I do not dare risk misdirection." She told them.

She was irritated and angry. Eglanon had chosen this way on purpose, knowing if he was followed, it would take much more time to be caught. Now unless they knew exactly where he was headed, they would never make up ground. Once the two others had settled down and the horses un-tacked, she headed out to search for the trail. Eglanon's scent was still lingering heavy in the air, so she knew they had not wandered off far, if at all.

It was a bold choice but she chose to run until she reached the end of the rocky outcrops that surrounded the realm of Isengard. Then she looked for a path, she hoped this would save her time and make for a quicker journey. After walking around the edge, she picked up on dents in the grass, the blades had been snapped in half and laid flat in two small areas, and they were wheel tracks. Her heart gave a small leap of hope at the discovery. With the hour she had left before the sun was high in the sky she followed the tracks once more.

He was following close to the Old South Road, heading North West the whole way. He would veer east and west to avoid any settlements but that was the only variation in his path and so north they would go. There was a path her people had found many years ago that weaved through the Misty Mountains until their end in the north. She had a mind to take this way up north, though it would take them away from the trail. It was more like a sixth sense telling her to do this, but her mind wanted to take the path Eglanon had left. It was a debate she would let the men decided.

Once she had returned Gandalf and Éomer had the horses ready and the small camp cleared up. She thanked them and told them of her findings.

"From now on I would rather not follow on his exact path. It would make it that much easier for him to pick up on our presence and realize he is being followed. For now I believe he is unaware, he is doing little to hide his tracks." She told them, even though she herself was in somewhat of doubt about this choice.

Éomer spoke first, "So how can we follow him if we are not on his trail? Would that not cause us to lose more time?" His brow was furrowed in questioning.

"We take a path north close to the mountains base that my people and I found long ago. I shall follow the path when you must take rest and when you're recovered, we ride parallel to him. If he continues north as he is, this path will save us time. It is the quickest way I have found yet to go north in this area."

Gandalf mounted his horse and the others followed suit, they waited to hear his thoughts. Even though Túrante was the chosen leader, she found herself also looking towards Gandalf for more guidance than she had expected.

"I do not know if I trust this path, I know my mistake in not heading your word before, but I find that following his tracks seems the better of the two options. I do not wish a delay in their finding."

"There is a chance it could happen, but I would rather take it than be caught in pursuit." Her voice was sharp, but she stayed calm.

"I agree with Gandalf, I am sorry Túrante, but I do not know if I wish to risk losing the trail you have just re-found."

Túrante sighed, rubbing her face with her hands, "It seems I am outnumbered then," and kicked her horse into a run.

As much as she wanted to argue she kept her mouth shut, she needed their trust more than anger, at least right now. And she even had to consider her own doubts about the thought. She did not understand the fervor in which she wanted to take the Mountain Pass, knowing she had a clear trail to follow. She had been lucky in Gandalf's early trust in her, it is what kept the others in open mind, even if as of yet they did not trust her.

She was worried they would not find Eglanon's camp soon enough, that they would be too late to save the men and her long life of trying to rid the world of her kinds evil race would be for nothing, that it was all in vain. She thought of Legolas, where ever he was at the moment, and of the others, and hoped with all her heart they were okay. _Please be okay, stay strong, _she thought, closing her eyes tight.

The next few days past much the same, they rested a few hours during the night and traveled at the first sign of light in the morning, following the trail. They continue to go ever northward, Túrante kept them slightly closer to the mountain range, than the trail was, just in case they needed to follow her path, or if the others changed their minds, though she did not see that happening soon.

On the third night they made camp in a small wooded area near the Dunland realm between the Misty Mountains and the Old south Road. She had not had much rest the past few nights and decided to take the middle watch and sleep some. Laid out on a small bedroll, it was not soon before Túrante was fast asleep.

Her sleep, however, was not restful. Instead she tossed and turned throughout the night, dreams plaguing her mind that had not occurred since the first age.

_She was back at Angband in the dark dank walls of the dungeons. It was after Melkor had first realized that her and the others had not been killing and taking in blood, in his anger he trapped them in the dungeons while he recalculated his project. _

_Then it switched._

_She was being forced to train the new vampires, these were his prize, and they had been totally corrupted by his malice. The training occurred all day and some of the night in the lands outside his castle. She could feel her hatred raging inside her body, her repulsion at their sight. Túrante then had the idea for the rebellion._

_Now she was in the midst of a battle, her and her followers were attacking the other vampires, the ones loyal to Melkor, the blood drinkers. It was one of the bloodiest battles she had been witnessed, and by the end all the vampires had been killed, but many of her people had been too, and now Melkor was returning from the kingdom of the Dúnedain. She was already filling his wrath, it was washing around her body like a flood. She had never expected to live through this battle, she was strong, but she was no match for Melkor, but they had fulfilled their purpose, the peoples of Middle Earth were just a bit safer with this creation now destroyed. They set up a last line of defense against Melkor._

_Then she was slung from that memory and into yet another._

_She was caring for Eglanon; he had just been turned, and was writhing in pain. She felt her grief for him like it was happening all over again. Melkor had brought him there as a very young elfling and Túrante looked after her brother as her own child, they reformed their little family group. _

_The transformation took place many years after he was brought to Angband and was exceptionally hard on him, but she was there through it all. He was never the same afterward, he was distant and was always wandering, though she never changed her feelings for him and always kept him close._

_It was after the rebellion and they had built their city and sanctuary when it happened. He rebelled against them, and left. When Túrante found him he had made it to Melkor's other fortress in the castle of Carn Dùm in Angmar. _

_At the sight of him Túrante knew what he had done, he had taken human blood, he had condemned himself to be killed, as was their promise. But he had changed much, he was no longer the little elfling that had followed her like a child, he was stronger, more confident, and filled with rage and malice. _

_She was reliving the worst nightmare of her life, the first battle between her and Eglanon, the one memory she wanted gone forever. She had him pinned to the ground, sword in hand at his neck, ready to end it all._

She woke with a start, sweaty and out of breath sitting straight up in the cot. Her hair was stuck to her face, and her fingernails biting into the flesh of her palms.

She knew where he was going; she knew why she wanted to follow the Mountain Pass in her heart. She knew, and in seconds she was gone. She forgot all repercussions of being seen and took to the skies, wings beating as fast as they were able, and she flew straight toward the Grey Mountains and the land of Angmar.

Túrante went straight up the misty mountains, cutting out many miles of travel, she was watching for any sign of life toward Angmar, and once she came close to the realm of Rivendell, she found it. There was thick smoke far off in the distance, covering the air of the mountains. There was something at the old fortress of Carn Dùm, and she landed on the nearest peak, sinking to the ground.

This was almost too much for her to bear, not only was she tracking the elf she use to consider her family, to kill him, she would have to follow him to the place that created all her nightmares. Her body shook from fear and fatigue, the poison was reeking havoc on her and now she face facing a mental battle like none she had to bare before. Then, for the first time in many an age, a tear slide silently down her cheek.

When she returned, the sun had risen for a couple of hours and Gandalf and Éomer were passing restlessly around the camp. She landed before them, sitting on the nearest rock, wings outstretched behind her, limp.

"Where have you been? Do you realize the time we have lost, and the worry we had at seeing you speed into the night without so much as a word?" Gandalf was patronizing, but he did not notice his words were landing on deaf ears.

She was heaving to catch her breath, coming in short gasps, and knew Gandalf was speaking, but could not bring herself to listen at the moment. She had taken a longer time getting back than she should have, but Túrante knew she had to get herself composed to tell the men of her findings. Once her breathing had eased, she raised a single hand in the air, eyes still focused on the ground between her feet, and the others silenced.

"We travel to Carn Dùm at once." Túrante told them, her voice much more steady than she had expected.

The silence that followed her statement was quite enough that one could hear a grain of sand move underfoot, and she did. Looking up, she saw the pure bewilderment that was on their faces. Had the situation not been as dire, she might have risked a laughed, however, she could not. It would be difficult to explain to them how she knew this but she had to, and there was no time to be waiting.

"Last night I had a dream of long memories past, ones that opened my eyes to what I had been missing all along. When Eglanon turned, he had made Morgoth's old strong hold of Carn Dùm his own. That is why I left last night, had to see if he had returned.

"I made it to the northern border of Rivendell; from there I was able to see smoke, black dense smoke, rising in the North. It was rising from Angmar, he has returned there."

"Are you positive?" Gandalf asked his eyes wide and voice sharp. He grabbed her arm, in his haste.

"No other would dare live there that now live in Middle Earth. Many years have passed since the evil that dwelt there was vanquished, but the evil remains, no good thing can prosper there. I am sorry Gandalf, but that is where we must go."

It took a moment for all the information to sink into their minds, the idea of traveling to that desolate evil land, was a terrifying thought. The evil malice that still lingered was the same as in Dol Goldur and Mordor, no amount of years could ever truly cleanse it.

Éomer then spoke, voice quite, "How long can we expect this journey to take?"

For a moment Túrante did not reply, she had thought he would be hard to convince, and here he was going right along with it as if she had been his advisor all along. She wanted to question him, but time did not allow. A wave of relief did, however, wash over her; maybe getting accepted would not be so hard.

"Rivendell is the closest half way marker, and that is a ten day journey on average at top speed. We can be looking at a month of travel. Though, the mountain pass I spoke of earlier will cut off a few days and drop us off at the very end of the Misty Mountains and open to cross into Angmar from the rear."

Now Túrante just had to hope that the men would agree to the pass this time, it would conceal their path to Angmar and keep them in secrecy, a thing they greatly needed, and speed. The pass cut days out of the trip.

"How many days does the pass you speak of save us?"

"At least five days Milord Éomer."

They did not take long to discuss the options they had, and took Túrante's advice, they would make for the Mountain Pass. And with that, the company speed off, following a barely visible path into the base of the Misty Mountains.

A thin layer of mist greeted them at an opening into the side of the mountain, hide from view by overhanging vines and trees. The droplets of water condensed on their skin and cooled them from the heat of the day. Once in the mountain, the men were at wonder to see it was not entirely dark, light seemed to emit from tiny holes in the stone walls. Túrante explained it was blessed stones from the Lady of the Wood, always giving off light to the travelers of the path, they never went out. They galloped throughout the day and most of the night, heading ever closer to their dreaded destination.


	11. Chapter 10

_**I want to apologize for the wait on this chapter, but school was rough, TONS of reading. But if you notice any mistakes, please let me know, I still have no beta reader. Let me know what you think!**_

_**Okay well I have had major writers block so this is not exactly what I had in mind for this chapter, but hopefully it is better than I think it is. **_

**Chapter 10**

Túrante did not know for certain how long they had been traveling through the base of the mountains, but she knew it had to be a few hours and she was beginning to hear Fëa's labored breathing. The horse was beginning to over exert, and she mentally slapped herself for not noticing her horse's condition sooner. She raised her hand in the dim light, alerting the others to stop and once she heard the pace of the men behind her she began to slow Fëa. Once she had stopped completely, Túrante dismounted and began to walk her in circles in the tight passage, trying to cool her down. It would be disastrous to have her joints lock up; she would have to be left behind.

It took close to thirty minutes for her breathing to return to normal and to finally be able to stop walking in circles. She knew she would have to be more careful in the future, even the horses of Rohan could not run forever. Even the great Shadowfax had begun to show weariness.

Now it was time to figure out just how far they had traveled and to send word to her people. They would hear their approach with plenty of time to assemble an army to stop them, but they needed to be warned of their coming and to not interfere.

"I need to travel ahead to get an idea of how far we have traveled and also to send word to my people. They will hear our coming, long before we arrive; we need them not to interfere with our passage." Túrante told them.

"How long will that take?" Gandalf asked her, weariness creasing his face. Túrante could tell he had not slept well or often since they left Edoras.

"Maybe half the night at most, but no longer. This path is secret, no one but my people and I know of it, you should both take the time to sleep without worry." She told them, before starting off down the path, neither man replying, they just nodded at her retreating form.

They had built many message portals throughout the mountain pass in order to keep in touch quickly and easily. They were small outcrops from the mountain side and they had a falcon placed nearby to answer the call, paper was already attached to the harness it wore, hidden in its back feathers. It did not take her long to find one, about a league up, and it was labeled with 700 and then Moria underneath it. So here was their first obstacle they would encounter—Moria. Without wasting more time, she called the bird and sent it off with the letter.

They would have to be careful, they would leave the mountains, and follow around its base where Moria was located, but often, Orcs roamed outside its doors. There was a small chance they could run into a band of the retched creatures.

When she made it back to the camp she saw both men were sound asleep, Gandalf with his eyes open, it made her shudder and she turned away. Túrante knew she needed rest, but she did not want to face those demons in her dreams again. Her body ached, every movement felt like she had weights attached to her limbs. Though she must have hid it well, they never seemed to catch on that she had poison still in her body, and that she would until she could either get to Galadriel or her own people.

So eventually she sat down with her back against the cave wall, the dampness slightly seeping through her clothes. She pulled her hair down and began to re-braid it down her back, as her thoughts drifted to the men they were after, lingering longer on Legolas than the others. She could picture his face clearly in her mind from the night they first met when she was tended to his wound. He was in so much pain, and she could only guess the kind of pain he was in now. She had to force herself to push the thought away; it would do no one any good to dwell on it.

Gandalf woke on his on a few hours after her return, close to dawn and after another hour they roused Éomer. She knew she needed to tell them where they were and what dangers faced them ahead, but she did not want to, all she had done so far was bring bad news after more bad news. As they packed the gear, she sighed and spoke.

"Not far ahead we will leave the mountain and travel around its base for a time to avoid Moria. However, we will be very close to its entrance and so there is a chance of running into orcs there. We need to be careful and observant."

"How many can we be expecting to face if we do run upon them?" Gandalf asked.

"It is hard to say, but they should not be enough to cause us much problem if we do," she replied.

They talked little on their way down the passage, from her estimation, they had maybe a few more minutes of riding before the tunnel ended and they would once again face the light of day, and Túrante could not wait. She found the tunnel cramped and like a prison, especially traveling in a group.

Soon enough, there was a stream of light breaking the dim light around them. It seemed to sparkle through the dust particles swirling around them. It was a more than welcomed sight and the horses perked up when they saw it, their paced quickened drastically. It would seem it brought life back into them; at least it was not just her who disliked the place. They burst through the opening at a full gallop, Fëa letting out a whinny at her joy. The sun beat down upon them, warming their chill and brightening their moods, it was a beautiful day.

They traveled through the day without any problems, and set up camp as soon as they lost daylight. Túrante knew it was time to start training them to fight against the vampires; they needed to know what to expect.

"My lords, we need to start training you on how to fight against Eglanon." She told them, after some debate. "

"Will we not use battle techniques we already know?" Éomer asked her.

"Yes, of course you will, but we are much faster and stronger than any human of elf. To kill us, you must take off our heads. It is not an easy feat. My hope is that these new vampires he has made are young and mostly untrained, they will not have a clue how to fight."

As if to prove her point, she moved side to side in front of Éomer and Gandalf, watching as they tried to follow her movement. They failed, well Éomer failed, Gandalf could a least tell her direction of movement.

She had them practice half the night, she wanted to do more, see real improvement, but Éomer was exhausted and Gandalf was beginning to show his weariness. Gandalf was able to block some of her blows, and Éomer started to figure out her directional movements. It was something they would have to work on every night from here on out, she should not have waited as long as she did. Once they settled in, the men went to sleep and she took watch, trying to let her own aching body rest.

Legolas woke to a pounding in his head, it hurt to move, to think, to do practically anything. It took him awhile to get his Barings, still keeping his eyes close, all he could tell is that he was lying on something hard and flat, and being wheeled across uneven ground, the constant bouncing jarring his already sore body.

Once the pain in his head subsided, his thoughts became clearer, and they drifted to the dark haired woman he had dreamed about in his unconsciousness. He could not understand why his thoughts were preoccupied with her, but that is where they stayed and he wondered where she was, was she here with him? No, she could not be, he knew it, he was missing that strange feeling he got when she was close. So where is she? Back in Edoras, back to her people? He did not know, he was just glad it was not with him and hoped she was okay.

He then began to listen to his surroundings, whatever was pulling them was quite, and it unnerved him. Any horse or even person would make noise as they walked forward. He could hear no talking, so maybe whatever was pulling them was alone and he heard the deep breathing of the men beside him, it sounded no more than 3 others, so Faramir, Aragorn, and Gimli must be with him, just not awake.

Time began to drag, it seemed like hours since he had woken, but he knew it could not have been more than thirty minutes. He tried wiggling to rouse the others, but it did nothing other than the mover giving the cart a little jerk, and he would wince in pain. He had opened his eyes and saw only blue skies, no clouds, no trees, just sky. Off to the side was green rolling fields as far as his eyes could she, and it gave him nothing to pinpoint for a direction or location.

Soon, he heard a groaning sound next to him, "Aragorn?" he whispered, scared to talk louder.

"Aye, Legolas?" he asked his voice cracking and hoarse.

"Yes it is me my friend."

"Are we all here?"

Legolas sighed, "From what I can tell, it is Gimli, Faramir, you and I, but it is only a guess."

He heard Aragorn shift some before he spoke again, "Where are we?"

"A better question may be, 'where are we going?' but I could not tell you the answer to ether."

They both lay in silence the next few minutes, both wandering the same thing over and over. Where were they, where were they going, where were the others, and so on. The light was waning slowly as dusk approached, surely they would stop soon. They never found out if they stopped during the night, they both drifted off back to sleep, shortly after nightfall.

The morning was not the clear day they experienced yesterday, thick grey clouds covered the sky. The air did not smell like rain, but it was dreary none the less. She did not have to wake the men, they rose with the sun and they began making their way north again, ever closer to Moria.

Despite everyone's mood, they made good progress, the horses keeping up a good gallop for the most part, with a few trots here and there to keep them from wearing out. It was close to midday and the weather was cooler out than it had been, when Túrante felt a chill run up her spine. She jerked Fëa around and halted, the, men confused, did the same. She waited and she listened, hoping it was just the breeze giving her the feeling, but she knew that was wrong.

It did not take long for her to hear it, the loud thudding of their feet, and the clanking metal of their armor—orcs. Closing her eyes, she focused all her energy and thought on their footfalls, hearing only them. It was not a huge party, but it was fairly large for orcs, at least fifty of them, traveling perpendicular to them, maybe five miles ahead.

"We have company. They are five miles ahead and there are close to fifty of them, by my count." Túrante told the, opening her eyes.

"Do we fight?" Éomer asked.

It was Gandalf who answered, rather than Túrante, "It is our duty to protect the people of Middle Earth, and we cannot let them go if we have a good chance to kill them. Túrante?"

"I agree, we should not have any trouble in taking them down."

"It is three against fifty, how is that possible?" Éomer's eyes wide in worry.

"Éomer, have you remembered nothing from last night? Chances are they will run from me shortly, and even if they do not, I can handle them easily."

"Right." It was all he said.

"Follow me; I shall ride straight for them." She urged Fëa

Forward, and the mare eager with anticipation, leaped forward with all her strength. It did not take long for them to hear the clanking metal and gruff voices of the orcs. They were close, and Túrante let them know, "It is time."

The orcs came into view, right after her words, all jumbled and confused, trying to form some kind of ranks against the attackers. When they saw just the three riders come into view, they began to laugh, it sounds more like cough from their gruff throats.

Túrante leapt from Fëa's back and charged, the orcs losing sight of her immediately and they began breaking apart, confused and suddenly fearful. Right before Gandalf and Éomer hit, about three orcs had fallen to the ground, they never knew what hit them, and their screams erupted into the air at the sight.

Her movements were fluid, it seemed as if time were slowing down as she moved through the creatures, striking down the ones in the middle, most never even knew she was there until her twin blades cut through their thick hide. One accidently connected his sword to hers in his backswing, bewildering him. He spun around, barely seeing her. The forced sent pain shooting through her arms, from the poison and she had not been prepared for it. Her movement stopped for a split second, but it was enough for the orc to catch her. Túrante moved at the last minute, the tip of his broad sword barely nicking her arm, it healed almost instantly. This made the brutish beast stop. He died moments later. She could not be sure but the battle could not have lasted longer than thirty minutes. They met back in the same area they started the battle, no one having any wounds other than a few minor scratches.

"Are they all killed?" Gandalf asked her.

"Yes I believe they are." Túrante answered, "We should head on while we can and go unnoticed, more may come."

She called for Fëa and mounted her again, giving her a pat on her sweaty neck. They took off north, passing the mines of Moria.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The mourning was hot and humid, especially back inside the mountain tunnel. A storm was brewing far in the distance; Túrante guessed it would reach them as they neared their destination. Never a good omen, she thought. Plus it was way too much like a book setting—there is a battle brewing and a storm hits just as the fighting commences. Four days had passed since the orc encounter and the trip had been quite since. Everyone's mood had darkened once again, the pass bringing it on. However, she still forced them to practice fighting every time they took a break and she was pleased to notice great improvement. It would not be too long now before their new skills would be tested.

Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Túrante needed to find the next mileage marker, they should be close to the end of the mountain pass. By a good guess, it was at most only a two days time until they were there. The thought made her pulse quicken and she quickly had to calm her nerves. Her biggest concern would be the number of newborns they would face. And what if Eglanon was there? Without her powers and with the action of the poison still in her body, it would not be good. In the back of her mind Túrante could not help but think of it as a suicide mission, though she would never voice it.

Luckily her dark thoughts were interrupted by a sharp chill wind cut across her face. There had to be a marker soon or they were much closer than was originally planned. Slowing Fëa down she began surveying the right side of the pass. It took only a second and she spotted the marker a mile up, glittering words underneath confirming it. From reading it, they were close—very close. Maybe a day's travel left in the cave, and then it would be straight to Angmar and to Carn Dum.

"My Lords," Túrante called out.

Éomer instantly recognized the marker, though the language was foreign, "How long do we have?"

"Maybe a day in this pass then we will emerge in the north. After that it is another days travel west to come to Carn Dum from behind." Túrante noted their slight nods of acceptance. They all knew it was coming, but now it was right before them and they had no choice but to face it.

"How many of these new creatures can we be expecting to face?" Gandalf asked his tone deep and concerned.

"I do not know. Once we are half a day's journey away, I will do a survey of the fortress and try to get an accurate count of them." She knew Gandalf shared her same fear of the unfairness this fight would hold. He just nodded his head, only confirming the knowledge further.

That was their only rest; they traveled at a canter the rest of the day. It seemed at first her guess was wrong, the end of the cave was nowhere to be seen. However, new scents began to fill her nostrils and the sound of a breeze was barely audible, they had only a few leagues left. It was a relief and also a gut quenching situation. When they reached the end they stopped and made camp. There were still a few hours of daylight left, but they all needed rest; neither man nor wizard said a word.

"We will practice no more from now on. There is nothing else I can teach you. You will need all your strength in the coming days." Túrante told them when she saw Éomer reaching for his weapons.

"What do you mean? Of course you could!" he argued.

"You have learned to focus and follow my movements. You already know war techniques and battle strategies. That is already more than any new fledging." She kept her voice calm, but with her nerves on end, it was hard.

"But they are faster and stronger!"

"My Lord Éomer, you are now able to at least hold your own against me. These vampires will not come close to my abilities. I cannot teach you more that will help you."

That seemed to appease him some, for he did not offer another argument, instead he put his stuff back and sat down on the ground. Túrante knew he was nervous, they all were, but there was nothing else she could do for them but offer rest. In the morning they would make their way to Carn Dum. She made her pallet on the earth and laid down for the sleep that wouldn't come. Túrante watched the sun set and the stars come out, decorating the sky and more clouds roll in covering them. The whole night, her mind was on Legolas and the others.

In the morning there was no sign of the clear night they rested in. The clouds were thick and ominous and the wind was picking up, whipping the trees side to side. Just like she predicted they would arrive with storm, perfect.

Legolas was slowly starting to recover from blacking out the last time. He heard the movement of crates and bags in front of him and leaves rustling in a strong breeze—so they were still outside. He could smell the grass and trees around him along with a strange scent he did not recognized, but it burned his nose. He wanted to open his eyes, but he was scared to see where he was and who was with him. He had been moved from the cart and was tied up on the ground, leaning against something quite sturdy. Ever so slowly he began to open his eyes, leaving them barely open. The light stung his eyes, even though he noticed it was not sunny. Staring at the ground, he could see people moving around, caring things here and there. Curiosity got the better of him and he began to look around, the people paid him no attention; if they knew he was awake, they did not seem to care.

They were all men, tall and slender, pale and strangely beautiful. The one thing that differed on them was their hair color, which seemed to range from every shade. It took only a minute before he began to realize what it was he was looking at. These were the people who attacked them going to Rohan, these were the same creatures Túrante had talked about, they were vampires. The realization terrified him, and Legolas began to struggle against his bonds.

Only one of the vampires took notice, he sauntered over to him, cocking his head to the side, as if examining some foreign animal. He seemed to ponder speaking, and changed his mind. The vampire stood, stared for a moment longer and just walked off, leaving Legolas more perplexed than before. It was only then when he stopped moving did he realize his arms and chest were burning, he looked down and saw blood, dripping from him. He was not bound by rope, but some sort of wire or metal. Escape was not looking promising for him any longer.

In less than a minute, the vampire was back, holding strips of fabric in his hands. Kneeling back down, he had the gag put through Legolas' mouth, as well as the others, in seconds. It was tight enough to cut into the sides of his mouth and draw a small trickle of blood. There was nothing left for him to do, but sit and wait, but for what he did not know.

"We must start moving" Túrante told the men. It was just past dawn, but with the cloud cover, it seemed much earlier and darker.

Once on the move, none of them spoke much, other than an occasional question on their plan of action. The land passing around them was a blur, which did not bother Túrante much. It was a barren wasteland for the most part. There were a few sparse shrubs scattered here and there, with a withered tree every mile or so. The grass, or what little there was, was brown and dead. Even in the warm months of the year, nothing could grow and prosper here, even miles from Angmar.

They had been traveling almost three weeks now and it was close to mid day, almost time for them to stop and for her go head on alone, when she would have to decide their next move. She knew it did not show but inside Túrante was in turmoil, over what she would find and what she would have to do. All of the possibilities she could think of were dangerous and did not have a good option for success—the thoughts scared her.

Too soon that time came and she had the men set a small rest area until she returned. She hoped she could be back by the night fall and they could set their attack by that evening, they needed the cover of night; it would offer them just a bit more hiding.

Now on her own she ran as hard and as fast as she could manage, the landscape blurring past, a mix of grays and browns, the mountains surrounding Carn Dum looming ever nearer. It took a good chunk of the day to get there but Túrante knew she had still made decent time. The first thing she noticed was there smell, they had a distinctive odor, though none she recognized, so they all were newly created. Listening from the tree she was perched in, she heard them moving around, hauling objects. _Strange, _she thought.

It was time to get them in her sights, if she could smell them, then they could smell her, though they probably would not know what it was. Her big concern was staying out of sight, while spying on them. Túrante crept through the tree tops, until the first vampire came into view about half a mile up. Watching his movements, she noted that he was going away from the fortress, in fact, they all were. Widening her view, she took in about 10 vampires in the area, moving crates, and none entered or exited the stone gate. They were camped outside it.

This was a slightly good note for them, no mazes to get lost in. If they had been inside it would have been just another disadvantage to them. One they did not need. All in all she counted somewhere around 20 to 25 of the creatures, not as many as she had first guessed, unless they were hidden somewhere else.

_Legolas. _The thought was sudden and instantly she went on the hunt for the captives, hoping to find them still alive. They had to be, Eglanon could have no reason to keep them dead, he would need them alive. Of course she did not know if this was true, but she was clinging to it as a last hope.

It took her a bit longer to find them than she had anticipated; they had placed them in the center of all their activity and she had to be extremely careful. They were tied by some type of strong metal sitting side by side around a large metal post of some kind. But she could see their chest rising and falling, and let out a huge sigh of relief and almost smiled. It looked like they were all awake and all gagged, but they were alive and seemed to be for the most part, unharmed. Turning she began heading back to the men, she had wasted too much time already.

Gandalf and Éomer were full of questions when she returned to their camp that night and she willingly told them everything she knew, even though she was drained and her body ached unmercifully. She needed sleep and rest, but she knew it would be difficult and so she kept talking to the men, also noting there anxious behavior. None of them would get much of the sleep they needed.

All too quick the morning came with gusty winds and dark gray clouds. Part of Túrante had hoped they would dissipate, but she knew it was fools hope. They would be lucky if they made it to their destination before any rain began to fall. She could feel the humidity building in the air.

"We must get moving. We need to get there and have as much daylight as possible." Túrante told them as they all began getting camp packed.

"When we get right on the borders of their hearing span we will stop. They will hear the horses approach and attack; we want them as surprised as possible. I will head in from there and attack. Give me ten minutes and charge in. Most of them should be too preoccupied with me and only a few will come to you."

The horses were antsy and so their gait was choppy. They were eager for battle, but fed off the tenseness of their riders. The landscape was changing as they near, the barren landscape was beginning to have more trees, but they were not normal trees. They were dark and foreboding, as if living by some unnatural means, it would not shock Túrante but she chose not to think on it more.

Hours had passed and it was now close to evening. She slowed Fëa down and the men followed suit. They were about three miles out and Túrante retold them the plan, they only nodded in response, ready to save their friends and scared of it is they were about to face.

Túrante spread her wings and charged into the area, the fledglings scrambled around in confusion, they had been completely unprepared. She found the closest one and struck him hard across the face, sending him flying about a hundred feet. Now they began to understand they were under attack and started growling, Túrante answering with a growl of her own. They were not as fast as she was or as strong and like she guessed, had no good battle training. The young vampires were all over the place and swinging at her haphazardly. She was not keeping track of the time, but soon she heard the hooves thundering towards them but paid little heed. If she did not draw attention to them, less of them would as well.

One of the creatures charged her, fangs bared. Túrante crouched in waiting and sprang at the last minute, catching him by the shoulders. They flew backwards and hit the ground, rolling a few times before stopping. He slashed at her face, only making contact once. She felt the cool blood drip down her cheek and felt the wound begin to heal itself and smirked. It must have frightened the vampire because he quit fighting back and started to squirm, looking for a way to get away. It was not going to happen; she snapped his neck and let the blood drain from him. He died quickly.

She took a few seconds to look around and saw quickly tat Gandalf and Éomer were in trouble, they had been put in a circle, but they were holding their own for now. She found the men wide eyed and struggling against their bonds. As fast as lightening she had their gags out.

"I am going to free you and when I do, find the first weapons you can and hold them off."

She gripped the metal tightly and began pulling. It was tougher than she thought, but it was slowly pulling apart, bit by bit, then it snapped in two. Without another word she went to aid the others. Twin blades out, she sliced through their line and cause chaos once more. They fought back with a vengeance she had not expected. Túrante gritted her teeth and parried the blow aimed at her neck. She wanted to keep watching the others, fearing for them, but she had no time. Once she got tired of the game she went on the offense and started an assault against her opponent and with just two misses. Her blade found his neck.

She kept fighting as one after another came her way. Thinking back on it, it probably was not as many as it seemed. Time drug on and was in a state of slow motion, each second seemed like a minute. Túrante was not sure why, but she had a feeling in her gut it had to do with the poison—it seemed to get stronger the more she exerted herself.

Then a yell broke through her mind, one that was not her own or that of a vampire. The men. Turning quickly, she saw where one of the fledglings had hold of Aragorn, his mouth closing around his neck.

"Oh no." She did not have time to think, she just reacted. Flying towards him, she ripped the vampire away, and it latched on to her. "Get him out of here!" They seemed to hesitate, not knowing whether to do it or stay to keep fighting the remaining three creatures. "NOW!" then they seemed to understand the urgency and jumped into action, running to the king's side. Neither did she wait to see if they listened before jerking the vampire off her. She was now at a standoff with him. The other two circled, not knowing what to do in the situation.

A thought occurred to her, she needed one alive at least for a little while. They needed answers and could not get any with them all dead. Túrante also knew which one it would be, and he was in front of her.

She straightened and the challenger paused looking at her curiously, "I do believe this has gone on quite long enough," she purred and before he could react her twin blades embedded themselves in the hearts of the circling vampires. They would not die instantly, they might not at all for the moment, but she would worry about that later. The other was about to run but Túrante was on him, dragging him back by the leg, "oh no, you shall not be going anywhere."

He landed with a loud crack against the rocky ground, over and over and Túrante laid her assault upon him. Them with her clawed hand around his neck she drove him into the metal pole the men had been tied to. Blood smeared his angular face and was caked in his blond hair. At one point she guessed he had been a man or Rohan.

"Now, if you answer my questions I promise to make your death quick and painless, otherwise I shall torture you. Do you understand?" her voice was cold and hard, laced with venom and loathing.

He violently shook his head and she smiled, "good."

"Where is Eglanon?"

"I...I...I do not know." He stammered in a voice that was melodious and deceiving.

Digging her claws into his neck she spoke again, "I do not believe you." Then she preceded to remover a finger and he yelled into the night. "I have not got all night, so, I will ask again, where is Eglanon?"

He took a minute to compose himself, and it seemed, to think about what his reply should be. Túrante dug in just a bit deeper.

"Angband!" he yelled, half crying, "He went to Angmar, that is where he is relocating to, or so we were told."

That was something that had not even crossed her mind. Him going to Angmar she had thought of but not there, never there. The Land of Angband was far in the North in an ever colder barren place. It really was a place of nightmares. A cold chill ran through her just thinking of it and all the memories that surged with it. She had to force thoughts of it down, there were other questions she needed to know.

"How has he made new vampires?"

"I do not know, only he knows, and only he changes the men. We simply do his bidding." His voice was still shaking.

"What about the prisoners, what were they to be for?"

"I do not know!" he was wailing know, and lying. Túrante could tell.

"Do not lie to me vampire, I will make your death that much worse I promise you." She hissed.

"He will hurt me, kill me! I cannot speak of it!" he was in hysterics by this point.

She brought her hand across his face hard and had her nails embedded as far as they could go into his neck. "You will die either way, right now you need to fear me and forget Eglanon. Why did he want them?"

Her slap brought him semi back to reality and his eyes stared into hers, the life draining out of them and he gave in, realizing nothing would save his life. "To turn them, make them vampire leaders. With them turned and sent back to their realms to rule, he would then be able to gain control over all Middle Earth. Bring on a new age of darkness."

Túrante stood starring at him in stunned silence, the truth of his words hitting home. It was a truly terrifying thought and a well thought out plan that was almost completed. Nodding gently, she told the vampire a quick thank you and killed him.

Now she had to find the men and help Aragorn. He was infected with vampire saliva, and it would kill him if she could find no antidote or a way to remove it. The venom only took a few hours to drain the life from a human.

They had not gone far; in fact they were only a couple hundred yards from the battle scene. They had laid Aragorn on the ground and stood around him whispering. She stood beside them, taking in the man in front of her. She felt Legolas' presence near her and yearned to be closer, yearned for his touch but she had to ignore it, she knew what had to be done.

Gandalf spoke to her first, "Will it kill him?"

"Yes"

He nodded, "How quickly?"

"Just a few hours."

Running a hand down his long face, Gandalf took a deep breath, "What must we do to save him?"

"Get the poison out of him."

Everyone stopped talking at that point and looked at her; it seemed everyone had the same exact thought. It was up to her. The question was—could she do it.

Faramir spoke now, "Gandalf, is that the only option, please tell me there is another way."

"I do not think there is, not that we have access to in time. Túrante is our only choice, if she agrees." Gandalf's voice was soft, he realized what he was asking her to do and what it could cost her, cost all of them.

"Can you do this?" Faramir asked her, voice stern and cold. He was scared.

"I will try if everyone agrees. However, know this, there is a chance I will turn and if the Valar do not kill me, you must. I have never tasted human blood, I can only hope I am strong enough to stop myself."

After a pause, everyone agreed. It was a quick decision but everyone seemed to understand the tight mess they were in. Either way they stood the chance of losing someone.

"Okay," she said, "Faramir, take this sword. If after five minute I have yet to stop, you know what you must do."

He nodded his head. She stepped forward and knelt by Aragorn's side, hands trembling. She took one last look back, eyes looking with Legolas. She was scared, terrified to be exact. For thousands of years she had resisted blood, now she was going to have to find a way to suck the blood and poison from him and not actually drink any of it, Túrante did not even know if it was possible but she had to try. She watched as the corners of Legolas' mouth turned gently up in a smile. Túrante turned her head by to the man in front of her.

Then with a quick intake of breath she sank her fangs into his neck and was lost in the bloodlust.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The need for blood overwhelmed her, pulling her deeper and deeper, until her mind was lost to all else. Never had she tasted something so sweet and inviting, she wondered why she had not let herself go before. Then the pain hit, starting slowly it worked its way to engulfing her entire throat and Túrante could not understand why, she was drinking the blood was she not? After thousands of years she was giving in to the constant blood lust, so why the pain? It was hard, but she knew she had to get her mind working, find the cause of the pain; it was not an easy task.

Then the flashbacks of the past few weeks came back, the events of the night, what she was doing at that exact moment. The venom she was sucking out of Aragorn's body beginning to taste in her mouth, and she knew she had to quit, had to get away from him, or she would never stop. The battle inside her seemed to rage for ages, Túrante could not figure out why she was still alive, Faramir was supposed to kill her if she did not stop herself.

Had she killed them all? Was the person under her no longer Aragorn, but one of the others? She knew there was a point when she latched on she blacked out and knew nothing but the blood, the realization terrified her, what if she had gone through them as nothing more than cattle. _Legolas. _No, she could not have killed him, but in her mind she knew she had and was repulsed and the blood she tasted now felt like poison to her system. Then it was gone and there was nothing but a searing, burning pain in her throat.

Túrante did not know she had let go of Aragorn, she did remember running from him and collapsing in a heap, a scream—her scream—filling the night air in pain. All the blood and venom she had pulled from his, now spilling from her mouth. She began spitting it out, wanting nothing else to do with human blood. Then she realized why it was the pain was still there, she never drank the blood, never swallowed. She had only tasted it in her mouth, so maybe I did not harm the others. The thought brought hope to her.

She forced her body to stand, every muscle quivering in pain and exhaustion, when she heard the footsteps behind her. She wanted to turn toward them but could do nothing. Even though she had managed to not drink, the thirst for blood was fresh, the pain and need worse than even when she was first created. Túrante was a danger to everyone until she could get her body and mind calmed and back in her control.

"Are you okay?" the voice behind her asked, slowly creeping nearer.

She recognized the voice, Legolas. Túrante now knew she had somehow against all odds, succeeded. As much as she wanted his presence, she knew he was unsafe with her.

"You are not safe with me, leave me here." It was a command, but her voice quivered and was anything but strong and commanding.

Legolas did not head her words, even though every fiber in his body said no do not go, he kept walking towards her. Even feet away he could see her body in spasms, he knew she was not okay and he was going to help even if she said no.

When he was just feet away from her, she turned, her body moving without her mind even registering the movement. Without knowing it her body was in hunting mode and Legolas was the prey. He saw the look in her eye and knew Túrante would either snap out of it or he would be hurt or killed.

She had to get her body under control, but through the pain and the thirst it was hard, almost impossible. Then a hand was on her shoulder, she was ready to spring, then nothing. The pain was instantly gone and the thirst hardly noticeable, never had it been so dull. The sensation stopped her dead, her eyes wide starring into his ice blue orbs. He looked as shocked as her, though she could not imagine why. It was like an electric shock went through her body. Once Túrante realized his touch was the cause she jerked back, terrified.

"What did you do?" she yelled, not knowing she did.

Before he could answer, she just limply fell to the ground and did not get up.

After the words left her mouth, a blinding white light erupted in Túrante's field of vision, making her blind to everything and she knew felt herself fall and blackout.

She woke instantly to find herself in white, everything was white. There were no trees, no grass, dirt, animals, just white.

_Where am I? _She thought.

"You are in a kind of dream state you might say." The voice answered her thought. It was soft and sweet, almost like a song.

Túrante jumped, not at first seeing anyone there, and knowing she never voiced her question aloud, they read her thoughts. Scrambling to her feet she spun in circles, searching for the owner of the voice, the voice she now realized she had heard before, many years ago. Stopping, she saw the woman approaching from nowhere. She was dressed in dazzling white with flowing dark hair billowing around her, her rosy lips forming a smile. Túrante knew instantly who she was looking at—the Lady Varda.

"My Lady," Túrante said and did a little half bow.

"You know why I am here, do you not?"

"It was to save the King, I swear I never drank it!" she pleaded.

"My child calm down, this I already know, you did well, though hard times will face you now. The burn will not go away it will be worse than ever."

"So I am to live?" the dread filling her was now slowly leaving her, they believed her.

"of course you are child, tonight you faced one of the hardest test you could have and passed brilliantly, all the Valar are proud. However, I am here because I need to know everything you know about Eglanon." The Lady Varda told her, placing a comforting hand on Túrante's shoulder.

"I do not know all that much. He showed up at the farm where I had been living after I found the leaders with one wounded. I fought him off but I did find he was after the men and had been the one to attack them earlier. He was situated at Carn Dum but is now moving to Angband, but for what I do not know."

"What about his new creations, they have come to our attention. It is not good Canye."

"I have not gone by that name in a long time My Lady. However, I know of at least 25 we have killed when we rescued the ones taken hostages, but for as how they were made I cannot fathom and for how many there may be." Túrante knew now the whole story would have to be told.

The Lady Varda nodded her head solemnly, taking in the information, "I will always call you by that name, it is who you are. Hostages you say?"

"The men were traveling to Rohan, against my wishes, and were once again attacked. I did what I could but Eglanon has been busy, he devised a poison that is still reeking havoc in my body and stripped my powers, I failed in keeping them safe." As she spoke she pulled down her tunic revealing the nasty wound. All the veins around it were a blackish blue were the toxins entered her bloodstream.

"Fail? No they are safe now thanks to your efforts. This is troubling news though, and worries me deeply. Let me see that wound more closely." She examined it and frowned. "This is unlike anything I have ever seen, it is clear that the poison is slow acting, but I fear without treatment, it will claim your life." The Lady Varda had the powers to heal such a wound, but not here not in this dream state. Here she could nothing more than offer guidance and help.

Túrante decided to ignore her last words, it was a fact she had already accepted in the back of her mind. "Eglanon wants to turn them into blood elves to gain control over all Middle Earth."

This was a shock indeed; it would detrimental to lose the great leaders, but even worse for them to succumb to such a fate. And the peoples of Middle Earth, well she did not want to think of that outcome. "How do you know this?"

"I forced it from one of the fledglings before disposing of him, but I could get no more form him."

"Canye, you must keep this from happening, if Eglanon can put his plan into action, the world as we know it will come to end, and no peoples on Middle Earth will be safe. There would be a 3rd dark age, and I do not know if it is one that could be reversed."

"How? You said yourself this poison will kill me, I cannot have that much longer, I feel myself grow weaker every day."

_Of course leave it to me, what can I do? _Túrante thought, the doubt in her mind taking over. _I soon will parish and then what? Eglanon wins. NO! _that was an option she could not accept, it was her fault that the world faced this monster, that her new companions were in grave danger. After thousands of years death was now not something she could face, not yet.

The Lady Varda seemed to sense her inner turmoil and waited in silence for her to speak again.

"What must I do?"

The lady's lips parted into a smile, the child would have made her parents proud. "Go to Rivendell, to Master Elrond. There you will find the answers you seek. Now I must go, for I have lingered to long."

_Typical answers of the Valar, always in riddles and never to the point._ Túrante sighed and nodded, to Rivendell she and the company would go.

"Wait!" she called as the Lady of the Valar began to fade. "What about my mother?"

"She is fine, strong and wise. She misses her daughter."

"Does she know what has become of me? Did you tell her?" Túrante's heart dropped at the thought of her mother knowing the creature she had become, what she would think of her daughter that had to leave.

"She knows you are alive." She gave a sad smile and was almost invisible to sight and with a last parting advice she was gone, "Remember what blood flows through your veins my child, remember."

Then the whiteness over took her once more and Túrante blacked out.

…

Legolas ran to her limp body, sliding her into his lap. He did not even notice the rain now falling on his back, soaking him through.

"Túrante! Wake up!" he shouted over and over again, but to no avail, she never even twitched an eye at his voice. Then he felt a slight jolt go through his body, radiating from hers. In the distance he heard voices conversing, but he could not make out any distinct words. What was more strange, the sounds seemed to come from Túrante, yet Legolas knew that could not be, she was unconscious. He anxiously looked around, but they were both still alone in the glade.

He looked back at her face; it seemed almost peaceful, not full of agony as it had been just moments before. It was then he noticed the purple coloring peeking through the edge of her tunic. His hand, still shaking ever so slightly, moved the edge back revealing the nasty wound below. No smell came from it, but it was easy to see it had not been healing properly. _That is strange, _he thought, _I could have sworn she could heal herself. _Legolas knew she could, so why was this not healing? It looked like there was something spreading from it through her body, creating a spider web of inflamed purple veins along her porcelain skin. The find unnerved him.

"What did you do?" he remembered her saying now, what had he done? He did not know. He touched her shoulder and for an instant thought he would be attacked, then it all changed. Her demeanor instantly changed, she looked shocked, that was when he felt the sensation run through his body and he just knew he did the right thing; this is where he needed to be. What it was or what caused it he did not know but he knew it had to affect her to and that was why she asked. _What did happen? _He kept asking himself until a hand on his shoulder startled him back to reality.

Aragorn was behind him, looking down at him with concern in his eyes. He knew for awhile there had been turmoil with his friend and that it revolved around the vampire, he just did not know what it was. The look in Legolas's eyes was one he had not seen in them in an age, dread.

"Is she okay my friend?" he asked.

Legolas stared at his friend for a long time; he seemed okay, like nothing had ever even happened to him. He was concerned, Legolas imagined he looked terrible. "I do not know Aragorn. She was fine one minute and the next she collapsed. She is breathing but is unresponsive. It is nothing I have seen before."

"I have," Gandalf spoke, "She is in a dreamlike state, most likely brought on by the Valar. Very strange indeed this would occur. In all my years I have never heard of it being done but in the direst cases and not with just any ordinary person. I feel soon, she will awaken."

"The Valar?" Gimli asked.

"Yes, there is much yet she has to tell us. For now we must wait."

…

She could hear voices talking around her and knew she was finally coming too. She did not want to open her eyes, she was laying on something comfortable, and the pain was still barely lingering. Túrante was scared that if she woke it would all come rushing back. Yet she knew she had to, they had to get to Rivendell, not only for herself, but for the others, for help, and for guidance.

Forcing herself, her eyes opened and adjusted to the dim light of the night, and then she noticed the rain that was now pouring down. The first thing she saw was his blue eyes, the same sight she had before the blackout. Legolas. He was what she was laying on; he was what was keeping the pain away. She did not know how, Túrante just knew he was the cause, somehow.

"You are awake! Are you okay? What happened?" not only Legolas asked but the others as well, almost in unison.

"Yes, yes I am fine. We cannot speak of it here, we must move." She croaked out, voice hoarse and dry.

"You promise us answer and an explanation there?" Gandalf asked eyebrows raised.

"There I shall tell you everything, but we must hasten, we do not have much time."

With Gandalf's assistance they gathered horses from the nearby wilderness and made all haste back toward Rivendell.


	14. Chapter 13

**Attention: I own nothing that pertains the the Lord of The Rings or any of Tolkien's creatiions. only the OCs are mine.**

**Also I want to apologize for the very LONG wait you guys had with this chapter, I hope in the future it will not be like this again. If you find any errors please let me know for I am without a beta reader for now and any help is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading and please review, I love knowing what my readers think!**

Chapter 14

They had been making good progress on their way to Rivendell. The weather had cleared and all the men's moods had greatly increased as they chatted heartily about the great city. Éomer and Faramir where especially excited, it was their first trip to the grand Elven city. However, Túrante's mood only deepened, the pain coursing through her body was unimaginable. It felt as if her whole body was set a fire. Sweat poured off her clammy skin—something uncommon, if not before, impossible for a vampire—and her heart raced. In all her long years she had never felt weak, even as an elf she had been strong and full of life and energy. Now, it took every ounce of concentration to keep herself on her mount as she swayed in the saddle. She was not afraid of death, but she knew she was not yet ready for it. If she perished, what would happen to the men? To Middle Earth? The thoughts scared her and she willed herself to keep going, at all cost. If nothing else she had to get a warning across the land, give them some sort of warning and hope.

'_Just a few more leagues,' _she thought to herself, _'I must make it.'_

As her vision finally began to fail her, armed figures dropped from the trees before them. She had not sensed their presence. It should have registered and worried her but at the moment she knew the men were safe and that is all that mattered. They had reached the boarders of Imladris and she exhaled a long sigh.

"State your names and purpose here travelers." A strong male voice called out.

Túrante pondered a moment about her answer. The guards would easily recognize her company, but she was a different matter entirely, she knew they could feel a difference in her aura than any normal elf. If she wanted to keep the men safe under her protection—if she survived—she would have to use a name long forgotten in history, her birth name, her true name. It was a hard struggle, it was something she had tried long ago to blot out of her mind to escape the pain of everything she had once lost at the hand of Melkor, yet she knew the truth would have to be told and the sooner it was accomplished the better for all. She saw Gandalf about to speak and Túrante held up her hand using her last bit of reserved strength she answered.

"I am Canyë, daughter of Ilmarë and Elemmírë." She heard them all take a sharp intake of breath but continued on without pause, "These are my companions, Gandalf the White, Legolas of Mirkwood, Aragorn King of Gondor, Faramir captain of Gondor, Éomer king of Rohan, and Gimli son of Gloin. We come seeking your Lord Elrond." She finished and felt her strength all but dissipate and she found a heavy blackness surrounding her and she fell.

Legolas had a hard time comprehending the words she just spoke. Could it be true? He knew she had no reason to lie, but why keep it such a secret? Many would be honored to have such a lineage. If it was truly as Túrante said, her visit with the Valar was easily explained. All the while he absorbed the information his eyes never left her, this strange creature of darkness that he was drawn to.

'_What could this mean? Am I also filled with such darkness and that is why I have a connection? Could it be her lineage that creates such an effect, surely it could be possible and I not be evil.' _He thought to himself, it was something that he had argued with himself over for many a day and each time had to push such things out of his mind for dwelling on nothing else. Soon he would have to tell someone of this phenomenon. For once Legolas did not have to mentally push away such thoughts as he saw Túrante's body begin to crumple and fall to the hard earth. His heart seemed to skip a beat and he could not understand why, it unnerved him even more yet did not stop his next actions. Before anyone had time to react he was off his on mount and racing toward her, he was just not quick enough. Túrante hit the ground sending up a wave of dust as Legolas slid down beside her. Immediately he rolled her over, going straight for her injury. He pulled down the sleeve of her tunic, ripping some of the fabric to reveal the festering gash. In just a weeks' time the condition had progressed and become much worse. The swollen purple veins spread up the side of her neck, down her entire arm and he did not know how much of her torso, but he could guess it was also just as afflicted.

"Gandalf, we must get her to Elrond. She is fading, we need her!" he pleaded urgently. To himself though the thought many other things, _'did he of them need her more?'_ A large portion knew it was not the later prompting his actions to save her, even though it was the truth as well and it frightened him.

The patrol seemed to understand their urgency, even if not the being they brought with them. The same elf as before spoke up, "Come, we shall take you to the Lord Elrond." He and the others disappeared into the foliage and the travelers wasted no time in following suit.

Elrond was there waiting as they approached the city, brows furrowed in confusion. He too felt the woman's strange aura.

"Gandalf what is this?" he asked. He trusted all of these men, yet they traveled with a person who was neither human nor elf. She was a being he had never before seen.

"I promise you all the answers I can give soon, but we must save her." He gestured to Túrante's limp form in Legolas' arms, "to learn more, and to keep our world from another dark age."

Elrond studied them all intently, taking it all in, most of all the clear expression of worry on the blond elf's face. He was not fond of this uneasiness he felt. Many times now he had felt a darkness stirring yet again in the world, not knowing if there was a threat to be had yet. Now he could have his answers but in the form of what. Problem he knew could arise from either action of saving her life or letting her die. Which was worse he did not yet know. Finally he spoke in a soft sad voice, "bring her." What came next Elrond could only guess and hope for the best.

The group walked into a large room garnished in deep mahogany furniture and lavish silk cream colored linens. Legolas laid her gently on the bed and began to walk away as Elrond ushered them out of the room when it happened. Almost instantly her breathing increased twice its normal rate, her hand groping for the bed sheets, knuckles turning white, and then the scream. It was a soul piercing scream, full of pain.

"What have you brought here Gandalf?" Elrond demanded, eyes cold and hard as stone, "She is a blood elf!" he had just seen firsthand her exposed sets of fangs.

"I have brought you a vampire yes, but one who we all owe our lives too and now must return the favor." Gandalf replied, his voice calm and solemn. Elrond knew he spoke the truth, and never had Gandalf brought danger upon his city.

"Aye," said Gimli, "I shall also speak up for lass." And the others—including Faramir—spoke up on her behalf.

Elrond was clearly having trouble deciding on his course of action. He had decided to help the girl, but know he found what she truly was, a blood elf, and the oldest evil creation of Morgoth. How was he to justify to himself and his people the act of saving her life? The only thing stopping him from letting her die were the five men, all rulers of Middle Earth, standing before him pleading to save her. What had such an evil creature done to gain their trust and loyalty? It did not make sense. He knew the stories, yet they were supposed to not exist, not anymore.

He walked to the bed, starring down at her fair face, screaming in agony. He felt the strange aura radiating from her; it was strong there was no doubt, yet not the evil and pungent feel of an orc or another of Morgoth's creations. How was this so? Yet he knew the only way to gain an answer was form the woman before him. He sighed long and hard, rubbing an aged had down his face.

"How did she come by this wound? Never before have I seen the likes of such."

"She suffered it at the hand of Eglanon, the new threat on Middle Earth, after we needlessly forsook her warnings and traveled onward to Edoras after Legolas was gravely injured." Faramir told Elrond, The others eyeing him in a somewhat mild state of shock. It was clear to all he was the least trusting of her. Something changed the night Túrante asked him to kill her should she fail in her attempt to save Aragorn. "She found us traveling and healed Legolas from nearly dying. Then after a second attack she fought off, we still left and other than Gandalf, were kidnapped. She was injured in the fight before setting out to rescue us along with Gandalf and Éomer."

Elrond took in the shortened version of the tale, knowing now there was no time for more. "I shall do what I can to save her. I make no promises on her survival."

The men all nodded but had slight smiles on their faces, glad they may yet have hope of saving her and their kingdoms.

"We must get her quieting down and her movements subdued. I know nothing of her genetic makeup and what medications we have that would work. Have you any information?" he asked them.

Legolas was aware of the sidelong glance Aragorn was giving him after Elrond's words. It seemed Aragorn had picked up on more than he had first thought. Perhaps he noted the same thing as himself, that her condition worsened once he laid her on the bed and moved away. He gave his friend credit; he was perceptive and knew him well. And so without question and all eyes on him, he stepped forward.

'_How in Eru's name am I to explain this to them?' _he pondered, while still walking toward her body. To this he had no answer and did not want to give it, however, if he did not do this she would surely die. From his warrior days he knew sacrifices must be made, and he would have to make one today that would be hard but not impossible. _'Maybe I will not have to tell them all," _he told himself as an afterthought, easing his mind just a bit.

Slowly he reached out his hand and felt his fingertips gently brush along her own. It took only moments for it to have effect. He felt a small jolt of energy tingle through his hand and all noise and movement stopped. Túrante was deathly still and Legolas could feel all their eyes boring into him, all the size of saucers in utter shock. Luckily for him Elrond jumped into action to begin the healing process and the others slowly filed out of the room, leaving only them.

Túrante did not know what was going on or where she was. She could remember announcing herself to the guards of Imladris and then nothing; it was all blank as if a whole chunk of her memory was gone. Very slowly she began focusing on the things around her, still not willing her eyes to open. She was on something rather soft and silky, a bed maybe? It could be a good sign that she was not in the dungeon. Birds where happily chirping nearby and a small breeze drifted by. So there was a window open, and rather large from the intensity of the noise. She could hear movement, though it was not close by. Shoes lightly scuffing stone floors, and voice greeting one another, none were ones she recognized. Her smelling came to her next, she smelled the scent of sweet flowers in bloom. It was, however, overpowered by another scent, one she could place instantly—Legolas was in the room, and somewhere near to where she was laying.

Her eyes opened and took in the world as if for the first time in many an age. Everything was so bright it stung her sensitive eyes and they watered. Legolas was there, just as she had known. Standing with his back to her bed, arms folded neatly behind his back, facing the balcony outside. She let out a sigh, not realizing she was holding her breath.

She wanted to sit up, get a better view of where she was and what was going on. She scooted her arms up by her side and began to push up, finding there was still immense pain and she slide back down onto the plush bed. The movement she noted caught Legolas' attention and he strode easily over, putting her in a bad mood.

"You are awake." He said a small smile playing on his perfect thin lips.

She was about to smile back until she remember she was ill at the fact she was still ill and unable to get up. "Obviously," she hissed, "and would like to get up." Being weak was not something she was used to and it scared her, though she did not want to admit it to herself. She was here to protect them, keep them safe and she could not even sit up in her own bed. For once in her life, she was the one needed help from others.

And if Legolas was offended by her snappy remark he did not show it, he still held the tiny smile on his face. "You have been out for nearly a week. Elrond has healed you but it was hard on him and your body. The poison had spread far and caused much damage." Legolas told her, kneeling by the bedside.

She took in the information, she had come much closer to death than she first realized. She thought about the fact that she may never be the same; there could be lifelong effects from the poison, ones that could change her life and change how she must live. It was a hard thing to contemplate with Eglanon having returned. Her mood quickly shifted from angry to sad and Legolas must have picked up on it for he asked, "Are you alright?"

She turned to face him, looking into his deep blue eyes that never failed to captivate her, "Aye, I am, just thinking." She responded, and it was not entirely a lie.

"The others will want to know you are awake as will Elrond, I shall return."

When he told her this she expected him to leave the room and be gone for some time, which she welcomed, she wanted alone time to find out how gravely injured she still was and to find solutions. This, however, is not what happened much to her dismay. Legolas simply opened the door, spoke quickly in elvish to someone outside and the closed the door and came straight back to the bed. Just perfect.

"So I have guards?" she asked, none too pleased.

She watched Legolas shift uncomfortably. "We tried to talk the Lord Elrond out of it, but he would not have it. He said until he has a while story that he can believe he must keep you under watch for the protection and happiness of his people."

Inside her anger was boiling, after all she had done for these men, risked her life and almost died, she was too be under twenty-four hour watch by guards. She did not risk everything to be treated like a criminal.

"I know you are upset," Legolas spoke again, "but it will not last forever, there will be a meeting today, things may change. Surely you can understand the hard predicament the Lord Elrond is in?"

And calming down and truly thinking through everything she could, even if she did not like it or want to. It his place could she honestly say she would have done differently? _'No, I could not.' _She knew that know. It is how any ruler must act when someone comes, unknown to them and may possibly threaten the survival of the people.

"Aye." Was all she said in response. What else could she at this point?

"If you would like I can assist you to the washroom where you can freshen up, the meeting will not be long from now." He told her.

She stiffened instantly, help her to the washroom, was he crazy? She had more self respect than that and he should know. And obviously he caught on to her thoughts for he quickly retracted his former statement.

"I only meant to assist you out the bed and to the room, I would leave you to your own devices then. You are still weak." He said, a slight blush growing on his checks at her silent accusation.

Túrante felt dumb, being an elf he had very high morals, she should have known what he meant. It caused her to also be embarrassed, though why she did not have female help she did not know. "Is there no other help?"

Once again Legolas averted his eyes and was not entirely comfortable; he did not know how she would react to the information. "None of the housemaids or handmaidens felt comfortable enough to take on the job. I and the others have been taking rotations in your care." His voice was soft trying to portray that he really was sorry for the situation she was in, knowing if they had listened, they would be in Lòrien where she was welcomed. He relaxed slightly when she did not tense up or have a outburst. She just sat there not looking at him and nodded.

She had a feeling that is what his answer would be, not that she was shocked. She did however know he had lied. The only scents in the room were medicines, his and Lord Elrond's; the other had only faint traces. They had not been doing regular shifts, Legolas took the majority, yet she said nothing. Túrante did not want to accept his help readily. She knew under the covers she was dressed but it was a light nightdress and nothing more, but she would be covered at least and she did not want to be in this bed any longer.

"Fine, let us get going then." She told him

Legolas got up and placed a hand on his heart and the other raised in the air, getting a quizzical look from Túrante. "I solemnly promise that no one shall hear word that a vampire had to get help from such a lowly elf." And with that he owed deeply to her.

Trying very hard not to laugh at his antics, she smiled. A true genuine smile at him and shook her head and extended her hand to him, waiting for the jolt she knew would come when their skin touched. She welcomed it along with the way it made the pain ease off and some of her strength return. She was not happy the effect he had, but she knew she needed it.

The bath felt amazing as she lowered herself gingerly into the lavender scented water. Her muscle relaxed and her mind drifted to pleasant thoughts, which she embraced whole heartedly. When the time came to get out and dress she was reluctant to leave but soon she was going to have to face them all and tell her story from beginning to end and it would not be easy. Túrante needed all the time she could manage to get to work up to it and prepare.

She was back in the room, pulling on a tall supple leather boot when a knock sounded at the door in which Legolas answered from the balcony, ushering them in, like she had no say so in the matter, and she was about to say such when she watched Elrond stride effortlessly in. She immediately tried to stand, which led to her about toppling over in pain and weakness, but she managed to recover and bow.

"My Lord Elrond, I wish to thank you for your hospitality and your healing me." Túrante told him, trying to sound as cordial as possible.

He nodded in reply, "The poison was one I have never encountered before and it took many days to draw out of your body. I do not yet know when your strength will return or if any lasting damage has been done; only time can tell such."

It was Túrante's turn to just nod in reply before he continued on.

"There shall be a meeting, of which I am sure you are already aware. We must discuss the trails ahead and of your part in the mess. I expect you both," he nodded to Legolas, "in my office in half an hour's time."

"Yes My Lord Elrond," she responded meekly as he left the room.

She slumped back down on the bench, not finishing her laces; instead she stared at the closed door wondering what the next few hours would bring.


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I owe nothing that pertains to the LOTR, it is the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien. However, any original character introduced to belong to me.**

**If there are any grammatical errors please inform me, as I do not have a beta reader to go over my chapters at this time. Thanks! And reviews are very much appreciated!**

**Chapter 15**

They made their way down the beautifully carved halls with Legolas beside her and the two guards following in step close behind them both. Legolas had insisted on walking at her side, in his mind he thought that if any elves saw them as friends it would help to change their perspective on her quicker. Though for elves those things did not happen readily.

Túrante was taught with nerves, only making her movements hurt that much worse, but they had eased off since she woke. She very much wanted to look around and admire the white washed walls, the paintings, and everything else Rivendell had to offer, but there was no time and the quicker this was over with the better. And plus, the guards she figured would usher her on, maybe. She could easily pick up on their fear and apprehension but said nothing, they were doing a job they clearly did not want, and she did not want to make it worse.

All too soon they were facing two very large dark intricately carved wooden doors that could only lead to Elrond's study. They opened from the inside, where she could see Elrond was already seated in the largest chair at the center of the gathering space. Two younger dark haired elves sat to right, she guessed Elrohir and Elladen his twin sons. They held a striking resemblance to him and to their sister Arwen. To his right sat a handsome golden haired elf, much older than the twins, Glorfindel she also assumed. The rest of the group that consisted of her companions had just arrived behind them. Túrante took a deep breath and stepped into the oval room, bowing to Elrond. He pointed a finger at a seat straight in front of him and she took it. The others filled in around and behind her and then the doors were shut with a resounding thud and there was silence.

"We have called this meeting to discuss the Lady Canye, a blood elf, and the new threat that has arisen in Middle Earth." He looked right into her eyes, and though she wanted to avert her gaze she did not, she held it and sat up a bit straighter in her chair—that was not very comfortable. "To begin with, how is it that the daughter of the Maiar and an elf came to be on Middle earth?"

"I was restless at the time, and sought out the Lady Varda through my mother Ilmarë. I asked permission to cross over into Middle Earth, and it was reluctantly given. It was not much before the very first elves crossed over." She told them, hoping the questions stayed simple.

"And that is when you were turned?"

"No, I lived a few years before becoming ensnared by Melkor." She said watching the elves shudder at the mention of his name. Many called him Morgoth, but during her time she knew him only as Melkor. "And before you ask, I do not know what he did to me to make me as I am. It is a blur and even when I was first reawakened I had no memories of my past either, they took years to return completely. He was there when I woke up, that malicious smile is one I will never forget. I think he told me then what he had morphed me into, but I was too focused on the searing pain in my throat. It frightened me and confused me. He led me to an area where he told me, 'if you train well today, I shall reward you with a hunt.' I had no idea what he meant I just wanted to pain gone, so I trained and trained hard. By the end I just wanted to sleep and not wake up, however, that was not possible." she paused here and took a few breathes before continuing. "I soon learned that my 'hunt' involved killing, and not animals but elves. I knew then I had been gone much longer than I thought. I set out, but did not hunt. Instead I found a cave and slept, I enjoyed my freedom for the first time since I was captured. But all too soon it was taken away.

I played my little game many years, long enough for him to turn other elves, yet none of us ever hunted. We had no memories of our past lives at that point but something lived inside of us that was strong enough for us to know it was wrong. Then he found out—we never knew how—but he did. As punishment we were whipped and help in dungeons deep within his fortress. It was not until man emerge that he called upon us again, to train the vampires. Humans it seemed did not hold our resilience. They were evil, malicious, and cruel once turned.

Many times I wanted to say no and just let Melkor kill me, but I was selfish and I wanted to live. I wanted to escape and live the life I had planned, so that is when we formed the rebellion—the blood elves against the human vampires and Melkor."she stopped here, only adding, "I am sure you know the stories from that point?" Túrante could see the others around her, watching and listening intently to the story that she was at loathe to give.

"Yes I do. Now tell me, this new threat, what is he?" Elrond asked.

And here it was, the part of the story she had kept secret for so long, the one she wanted no one to know; the part that as of now only two others knew—Galadriel and Eglanon himself.

"His name is Eglanon and he is also a blood elf. However, many an age ago he fell from our kind, taking the life and blood of another and so condemned himself to be put to death. Only he did not die. He managed to slip under our radar and only until recently has he surfaced. Many of my people believed him to be dead."

"And how did he manage to escape?" Elrond asked, voice low and fingers interlaced upon his lap.

She took a deep and shuttering breath, and it took many moments for Túrante to gather herself up to answer. Lowering her eyes she quietly stated, "I let him."

Their gasps were easy to hear and the silence after was enough to shatter her eardrums. She wanted to breakdown at that moment, just let all the ages of pent up emotions out but she could not, Elrond's angry voice echoed through the study, "Let him go? Is this the kind of protection your people are supposed to be giving us?"

With her head still down and fingers shaking she felt the tear run down her cheek. It was not a normal tear, it was red, the color of blood. When they cried, they shed their own blood, just another trait they could see to set her apart from the people she once belonged to. It was a tense time before she found the answer she wanted and when she spoke nothing could prepare the men.

"I fear, my Lord Elrond, that even you may find it hard to kill your own brother."

Her company was all starring wide eyed and mouth agape at her. It was not an answer they had been expecting. Then again who would? No one would think that your so called guardian at the time was protecting you from her own brother and leading an attack against him. It seemed at the moment even the elf lord was at a loss of words, she however was not. Many an age she had played this story through her head and told it to herself over and over, now she would tell it to them all.

"I do not know when he was captured or how long Melkor kept him before tossing him in the dungeons with us. He was still an elfling at that point, and I made sure he stayed by my side no matter what. I raised him as my own in that damned place. He came to Middle Earth in search of me, but was taken. What happened with him and Melkor he would never say and I never forced him to tell me. He was not the same elfling I had left in Valinor though. He was quiet and often kept to himself. Back home he was boisterous and getting into everything imaginable.

Then Melkor took him and changed him, and there was nothing I could do. I held him as he cried from the change, trying to comfort him and tell him the pain lessens over the years, but nothing worked. Eglanon—that was not always his name—withdrew even more from the world, he was a recluse.

I cried for him and prayed to the Valar for him, but to no avail he only became worse. I was his trainer; I would allow no other to do it for fear of what might happen to him. Melkor began meddling his way in, trying to take him from me, make Eglanon his right hand vampire. I was furious, not only for him taking and turning my brother but for all his evil doings—the orcs the balrogs, the death. I had had enough and hence another reason for the rebellion." She could feel the tears slowly trickling down her cheek but she paid no heed and continued.

"The survivors and I created our home we still reside in today, trying to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives. Even in our new haven and with our freedom, he was not happy and nothing I did seemed to help. I watched him struggle day after day not knowing what to do. Then one week he simply disappeared. We held search parties day in and day out, with no luck. I was worried, scared even.

It was early in the morning when I had set out, and after many hours of traveling, caught his scent and followed it north. With all haste I found myself starring at Carn Dùm and Eglanon. I saw the transformation easily, I knew he had drunk the blood of another and condemned himself to death. At his feet I broke, I cried and asked repeatedly why? Why had he done this? What purpose could he have had? I had risked everything for his freedom and safety. For I just could not understand, I was finally able to give him the life he deserved and he threw it all away, my little brother.

His response was an attack and so we fought. It lasted many days and nights, both of us close to death from our sustained injuries, when I pinned him my sword poised at his throat ready to deliver the kill shot, I faltered. Instead of seeing the monster I was ridding the world of I was seeing the face of my brother the one I grew up with in Valinor and I could not do it, so instead I fled." After that she could say no more on the subject and none of the others pressed her. Túrante could feel the red stains of the tears upon her cheeks, wanting to wipe them away but unable to do so. She wanted this to be over with, she wanted silence and to be alone. However, for now there were still more questions she knew. She was surprised that Elrond dropped the subject of her brother and her mistake of many ages ago.

"You of all people know this enemy the best, what must we do to save our people?" He asked, worry filled the lines of face.

"Muster the largest army that you can, train them to fight against vampires. There is no way to know the exact number of fledglings he has created, but he will be prepared." She told them all, not just Lord Elrond. "Galadriel knows of me and is my closest friend, she will offer the aide of Lòrien."

If Elrond was surprised by her friendship with the Lady he did not show it, rather he was focused on a different aspect of her plan—training. It did pose the most complications of all. "How do we train our warriors to fight vampires? You cannot do it alone."

"My people are all highly trained by myself; they would train them if allowed by the rulers." She knew it was a risky suggestion, after their learning of her history. They had not accepted her and she was asking them to let her people—blood elves—to train their knights. She had to hope they saw the reasoning to this plan.

For a long while Elrond sat in silence, pondering his options, his two sons and council trying to offer their ideas, he only quieted them with a wave of his hand. Túrante feared the answer would be a no; she would have done so in his place.

Elrond looked her in the eyes, his face youthful but his eyes spoke of his age and his wisdom. He spoke gently and quietly, "This is not something I will decide tonight. It will take much time and consul; I shall give you an answer when I have made one."

"As you wish," she said and gave a slight bow of her head.

"How much time do you say we have?" he asked before rising.

"There is no way to tell, I am sorry."

He nodded his head and began to leave, Elladen, Elrohir, and Glorfindel following behind. Túrante and the others stood and followed suit before he stopped again.

"I feel you are no threat to my people, however, I ask that you keep the guards with you to give my people peace of mind, many will be hard to learn the truth and find acceptance."

She nodded, the truth already known to her.

She was shaky as she stood; Legolas had to grab her arm to keep her balanced and steady. She wanted to jerk her arm away not wanting the others to see her weak and frail, but she knew it would only cause herself to stumble. Túrante had to swallow her pride once more. Thankfully if they noticed, they acted as if they did not and she silently thanked them for it. The ideas of being back in her room was comforting, though the whole ordeal lasted no longer than 2 hours, she was drained and spent. Telling of her past took more out of her than she had thought and her body was weakening. By the time she made it to the doors of her room, Legolas was all but carrying her. Although her feet were moving, he was supporting all her weight.

Under normal circumstances she would have been mortified, but when his strong arms gathered her up and laid her on the bed, she held no protest; she only thanked him and was gone. She slept for hours on end.


	16. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I own nothing that pertains to the LOTR, however, any original characters or places are of my own creation.

A/N: I would like to inform all my readers that I have just been accepted into my schools nursing program for the next 2 years whoop whoop! This however doe mean that my time to write will be greatly reduce, I do not plan to let my story go however and will keep writing as much as I can. Just know the chapters will be a longer time in the posting. Thanks again for all the reviews and support!

Chapter 16

When Túrante awoke, the sun was shining brightly through the open balcony doors. Birds were chirping shrilly from their high perches within the nearby trees. It was peaceful and she almost believed she was back at home in her forest, but reality hit as she opened her eyes and surveyed the room. From the strength of the sun beams Túrante knew it was the following morning, and late morning at that. Sighing, she began slowly moving her limbs, testing her strength. It was heartening to find much of the pain gone, only a slight stiffness remained. However, the burning in her throat was in full swing, it was a feeling she was not accustom to after so many year—and Legolas had been around and close by her side since the incident with Aragorn and the pain was minimal.

Deciding not to waste her alone time, and to distract from the thirst, she made a bath to soak and thought about all that had transpired over the past few days. Telling the company of her dealings with Eglanon had been difficult and taxing on her already weakened state. Her mood deepened, with thoughts of what would come plaguing her. Túrante needed the rulers to overcome their fear and have their men trained, or as many as possible, otherwise it could turn into a massacre—'_that, however, could still happen'_ she thought. Getting the men to actually agree was a war that would be hard to win. Not wanting to dwell on such a possibility Túrante gathered her things and prepared to get herself ready; she wanted and needed to get out of the room. Although large, it felt confining and cramped after so long a time.

Knowing her 'guards' were still posted outside the door, she knocked alerting them to her presence. Within seconds they entered, obviously nervous . Trying to ease their discomfit she offered them a small smile, "I would like to go to one of the gardens." She said quietly, hoping not to intimidate them further.

"Is it not best to stay here until you are recovered?" the closest guard said, shifting uncomfortably, wanting her to change her mind. Standing outside her door was one thing, but going out into the open, potentially alone with her, was something else entirely. The guard saw the flicker of frustration cross her face. He wanted to take a step back but instead stood fast, his partner doing the same.

"You know I have leave to roam the grounds, you can either take me to a secluded garden where I will not bother others or I shall find one myself. I will not, however, spend another minute in here." Túrante informed them, voice much more commanding than before, yet not harsh or angry. She just needed the fresh air.

They contemplated only a minute before the same one as before replied, "Okay, there is a rarely used garden on the south end of the city. We shall take you there."

"Thank you."

The walk to the garden was a fairly good distance, she began feeling the strain but it was manageable. Once there she was pleasantly surprised. It was slightly overgrown but she thought it added to its appeal. An intricate fountain gurgled at its center surrounded by trees with small white blooms. Benches were placed strategically along the stone path to form a circle around the fountain. Past that wild grasses and flowers bloomed. The next layer consisted of lilies and orchids before the wild trees and roses began.

Túrante chose to lean against an old oak tree on the outskirts, admiring the roses growing all around, their sweet aroma filling her nostrils.

Pulling out her satchel she began to draw. It was not a hobby she got to readily practice, not lately anyway. Holding the quill lightly she began making strokes across the parchment. Some were short, others long and yet the others were thin or broad. Túrante had no planned picture; she just let the drawings create themselves.

She noted after some time the guard that had spoken to her earlier was creeping forward ever so slowly attempting to see what she was drawing, and she had to chuckle at him. "Would you like to see?" she asked, holding out the pad with a smile on her face.

She was a bit surprised when he took it, as was the other guard who she watched from the corner of her eye shift nervously and narrowing his gaze upon them. The other guard—she really needed to learn their names—flipped through slowly, taking time to examine each of the pages. They must have been out a few hours for her to have made so many, it had started empty.

"These are amazing. You capture their characters perfectly." He told her, clearly impressed.

"I have had plenty years for practice. It was not a skill I was born with." She told him, some of her happiness leaving.

It was true she was once terrible, but years in a dungeon gave her a perfect chance to practice. It was also how she expressed her built up emotions after the war and then again after Eglanon's betrayal. She had hundreds of drawings all depicting a different aspect of the war and her emotions, kept hidden in her home. Coming back to the present she realized she had been drawing the company.

"Surely you had some tutor? He asked, not believing she was self taught.

"My father taught me the basics but I only became interested later, and learned everything else trough trial and error. Maybe one day I shall show you but I think now I may rest." Túrante smiled at him and closed her eyes, drifting off into a light sleep, still very aware of the goings around her.

…

Much of the next weeks passed in much the same way. The men of the company began joining her once in awhile when they figured out where it was she was disappearing to—especially Legolas and Gimli who was usually always with the elf. Her guards had begun warming up to her and they routinely carried on conversations, usually revolving around their different cultures. It brought a pang to her heart to talk of home after her long absence, but she did not mind telling of home, she was proud of it. Truth be told they had very few differences from their long lost people.

Gandalf and the others had been forcing, well coercing, her to attend the meals in the great hall in hopes others in Rivendell would come to accept her presence. Every time she stepped through the door she felt like the bulls eye of a target. She could fell the elves stares. Many were scared, others angry and loathing. It was also hard to ignore their remarks, which even though they whispered, she heard with great clarity. Túrante hated it; she, however, did not know if it was because they did not give her a chance or of it was because they saw her for what she knew she was…a monster. She did her best to not heed them, though she stayed very silent at the meals. In her secluded garden she was happy and at peace, here she was ridiculed and insecure and that was a feeling she had never felt before.

Legolas had once again become a constant in her life at Rivendell. Other than a few hours out of each day he was with her. If the others noticed anything they never said, but to her it was obvious and even her mood improved when he was around. It was frustrating but she could not deny she enjoyed it. Of course she wanted to put distance between them, knew she needed to, but doing so was not easy and Túrante was beginning to unwillingly accept the effect her had on her. She had to shake the thoughts from her mind, she wanted to quit dwelling on them, she had to try to push the elf prince from her mind.

…

After a fortnight, Túrante was restless and had yet to receive any decision from the Lord Elrond. "Gandalf," she asked, "When can we expect an answer? You know we cannot delay much longer."

He was not quick to respond; even if he knew what she said was true, it would be a hard feat to accomplish her plan, many were not as open to such change as the other men and himself. "It is a tough choice Lord Elrond must make, we cannot rush him, and though I do fear what our delay may cause. By now it will be known we reside in Rivendell."

Túrante's eyes widened, the notion that Eglanon would attack Rivendell coming after them has never once crossed her mind. "I cannot foresee him being so brash or bold, but we must not count it out either." She added knowing he very well could attack.

"I am not so much concerned with him attacking the city as him having an ambush on our departure." Gandalf told her.

"How can we be prepared for such an attack?" Aragorn asked.

"By staying vigilant. Also, you have me. I will know of their approach long before you will." She told them.

They all nodded and began heading their separate ways. Legolas was thrilled about her having to play their body guard again, she had already done so much, yet they needed her—and so did he. He stopped short, the revelation of his needing her startling him. He needed to speak with someone about it soon.

He quickened his pace catching up with Gandalf, pleased to see Aragorn was with him. He wanted to tell them both and now he could do it all at once. He did not know if he could tell it a second time.

"Gandalf, Aragorn, do you have a moment?" he asked not knowing if he really wanted them to say yes; they did. He took a few deep breaths and continued, "There is something I would like to discuss with you both…in private."

They both looked at each other, their confusion evident. "Of course, my friend." Aragorn replied, "We can talk in my chambers."

"Thank you," Legolas said with a small smile and walked with his friends. Secretly he was wishing they had said no.

Once inside, they sat around the large stone table by Aragorn's balcony and Legolas unsure of where to start.

"What is it you wish to discuss?" Gandalf questioned in a quiet and concerned voice.

"I am not sure where to begin, it deals with Túrante."

"Ah," Gandalf whispered, the confusion mostly leaving his old wrinkled face, he had a feeling it may have to do with the women they were now all dependant on.

"I do not know how to explain it, ever since our first meeting, I have felt a pull towards her. I know it sounds absurd but being near her is a shock to my system but yet where I need to be at the same time." He was at a loss for words, feeling tongue tied and confused, he sighed in frustration and Aragorn laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"What happens when you touch?" he asked Legolas, leaning forward in his chair.

"A jolt of sorts, a shock, but not in a bad way, it is almost comforting. Do you know what this is Gandalf?

"I am not sure yet." He said running a hand through his beard thinking. "But I may have an idea. I shall have to delve into some old records to be sure."

It was Aragorn who spoke next asking the elf, "You have the same effect on her do you not?" he was clearly thinking of the incident when they first arrived and other encounters he had seen.

"I do not know, we have never spoken of it."

"My friend, it would appear that after our little occurrence a few weeks back, you do. It is also plan for us all to see her demeanor change around you. Granted, I do not believe she does it intentionally." Aragorn stated, not sure what all this meant for his friend and their new companion.

"Interesting, very interesting." Was all Gandalf said in reply.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Her restlessness only grew in the passing days. She was often found passing in her room or the gardens. The quite peacefulness she felt before was gone. Gandalf's warning of an attack had her on edge and high alert. The men could feel her anxiety and worsening mood, even Legolas refrained from speaking much to her. She needed, they needed, to leave, set out to Lothlorien to Galadriel. The rings of power were waning since the fall of Sauron as were the power of the elves. Galadriel's remained the strongest but not even her power could hold back this storm for long, but they needed more time, and she could give them that.

More on a personal level Túrante needed to speak to her long time friend. Speak of the link between her and the elf prince, she would know what to do, what it was between them. But how? As much as she did not want to do it, she would have to ask Elrond for help to even see if it was possible. It would be like pouring salt in a wound, however, to contact Galadriel from here he was her only chance.

Before she could talk herself down, she strode out of her room, baffling her guards who scrambled to catch up and Legolas, who was walking in as she walked out.

"Where are you going?" he asked, jogging to match her pace.

"I need to speak with Lord Elrond immediately." Her tone was sharp and brisk, cutting Legolas' retort short for a moment.

"Are you sure that is wise? I know we have discussed the matter in the group, but should not Gandalf…" he trailed off when he realized she was no longer in step beside him. Looking around he spotted her, frozen in place in the long hallway overlooking the courtyards below. Elves walked around greeting on another and jovial conversations, completely unaware of the crisis above them.

Túrante's eyes were enlarged, her pupil's dilated in strain, and she turned to look out over the city. Legolas noted then her hands were shaking.

"Túrante, what is it?" he grabbed her arm, trying to turn her body. It was like trying to move a stone wall, she did not budge, just stood there in what he could only describe as a petrified state.

In what seemed like an eternity, she looked him dead in the eyes and in a voice crystal clear, smooth, and full of sorrow, she spoke, "Get the others, get to safety. He is here." Before the reality set in she was gone, the guards flat on their backs from the force of her take off. All they saw was a blur green from the color of her attire.

"_This cannot be, not here, not now." _Anger flooded through her veins, pounded in her heart. Innocent people lived here, innocent people would die here, and that she could not change. But they would die to, she would make dead certain of that. Before she knew it Túrante was flinging aside the office doors, Elrond's guards leaping into action. They only got slung aside by a wisp of her hand. She did make sure as not to hurt them.

"What in the name of…"

"He is here, you are out of time. Send word to hide all the women and elflings, he will show them no mercy."

"This cannot be, he cannot come here."

"He can, the power of the elder is fading, you know this as does he. Never would I have thought he would attack this city but I was wrong and for that Rivendell will suffer. Save as many as you can and do not delay." She stepped closer to the lord with every word, eyes eerily calm and dead as ice. She saw then in his face he knew the truth.

"Get all the women and children to the dungeons; assemble all soldiers to the front lines. Rivendell is under attack." Elrond's voice was calm but laced with fear and sorrow. No one questioned him as they raced into action, the women already screaming in fear.

Armor began clanging around her, swords being drawn and sharpened. Chainmail was rubbing the soft tunics they covered, making the music of war. The flash backs tried to overtake her mind, jumbling her thoughts. She pushed through them during the war of the ring, and she would now to. Compartmentalized she told herself and forced the memories into their own little box in her mind for the time. Put them away until it was time to deal with them.

With a deep breath she stood straighter, gazed at Elrond, and walked out of the office. In the distance she saw them coming. Some were flying and others on the ground, she grinned and evil malice filled smile. She might not have the chance to kill Eglanon this time, but his damned creations would be destroyed, she would make sure of that.

When the elves saw her in the halls, they fled in the other direction, even the soldiers; it angered her but that to had to be put away as well. Her anger was for the fledglings coming to raise an attack, not the people she was to protect. She had to focus.

The first clang of metal on metal rang through the air and Túrante was in battle mode. She rushed into the front lines, sword raised and poised for battle. The Elven soldiers were in shock at first, not sure what to think until she took out the first wave of the vampires. It seemed to click then, she was on their side. To this Túrante was oblivious, she just zeroed in on the fledglings and attacked. Some were better than others, probably older, and while they were a huge challenge for the elves, she cut down one after the other.

At first she was not sure what jogged her from battle mode, but she stood in a circle of dead vampires, a few elves stood with her, still struggling against the onslaught, but mostly holding their own. She had no scent of Eglanon, so what was it? There it was again, a baby—a baby was crying—that was nothing new, they were crying everywhere, so she sharpened her hearing focusing everything on it.

"My baby! My baby!" a woman screamed from above her head and she looked up to the balcony on the third floor. There was an elleth, being held back by her family in the doorway of a room, while a vampire held her screaming child over the edge.

He wings were out and she aimed straight for the child. Engulfing her in her arms, she snatched her away, slicking the other vampire with her wings, before smashing shoulder first into the opposing wall. The mother was screaming with even more ferocity now, and Túrante vaguely remembered wondering how that was possible.

She looked down and had to smile when she saw the young child unhurt, clinging to her neck.

"Shush now, it will be alright." She whispered, stroking the child's hair, while watching the vampire try to regain his feet. She did not have long and rushed the child to her family and cursed inwardly, she broke the door providing them safety in her crash. It looked like she may have found a new spot to fight.

"Take her and stay behind me, do not move!" She yelled, taking their blank stares as a yes. "Cover her eyes." Without question the mother did so.

The vampire facing her used to be handsome, that was clear, but what she saw now made her want to wretch. His facial features were much to angular and his skin was a wrinkled sickly green palor. What used to be black hair was stringy, falling out, and a matted grey. Eglanon was morphing them even more, changing everything about them. Any human qualities he may have had were gone. Thinking back to earlier she pictured vampires with normal faces—for a vampire that is—they were not all like this one.

Then there were three of them, all non recognizable, staring her down and she gave a one sided smile. "I would not do that if I were you." She spoke as they began to walk forward. They gave each other a glance and smiled, barring sharp point fangs and walked forward. "Wrong choice." And she lunged; wings outstretched and turned mid air. She felt her wings hit a slight resistance and follow through. Landing on her feet in a crouch she looked back at them. Eyes wide and hands grasping they toppled over, heads severed. Dead.

In seconds, more were on her, targeting her. Just perfect she thought bitterly, the family behind her was probably safer without her there, but nothing could be done about that now, she would not let them die. And so she fought, and fought hard. It was apparent she could not hold out much longer, and then she spotted Faramir. He was dealing with a group about as large as her own and in very close proximity, but one was coming behind him and he had no idea.

"Faramir! Duck!" she did not even realize she screamed until he did just that and missed killed speared by seconds and until she felt the sting of a blade cut through her leg. She had lost concentration long enough to let one of the monster get in close enough for a good shot. The cut was deep but it would heal. She turned to take on the attacker and saw with fearful recognition he was to close, she was too late and was going to get hit. Then he just fell. Faramir's head appeared from behind, bloody sword hanging from his hands.

She smiled, "Guess that makes us even then."

They had only a short break with no attackers but she saw more coming there way. She used what time she had to keep the family safe.

"Can you keep them safe?" she nodded to the family still huddled behind them, "The damned creatures are targeting me, I cannot stay here and protect them."

"Aye I can do that. Where will you go?" he asked, liking her more now that he owed her his life…again

"On a little trip," she gave him an evil little grin, "I shall be back." And with that she rushed the oncoming enemies, grabbed hold of each and dove of the balcony.

The impact rattled her whole body and the pain was blinding for a second, but it faded. The others, caught unaware were utterly confused and she took the advantage and ended their miserable lives. Standing up, adrenaline coursing through her, she never noticed her limp and the blood still traveling down her leg.

It seemed only a short time later that she found Faramir and the family again, and finding the battle winding down, the few vampires left, were fleeing and she let them go, her body was weak. The battle, however quick it seemed, took hours. Twilight was fast approaching when Faramir greeted her. "How was the trip?" he laughed now seeing that she had lived.

"Had better," she laughed too, it was all she could do. "The family?"

He pointed to the same room she had been protecting earlier, the family still there, all alive. "Just fine."

She smiled and began to turn away when a voice stopped her. "Was there a right answer?" it asked.

Túrante turned and saw an ellon standing near the family walking towards her. "I do not understand." She told him puzzled at his question.

"You told that, that, that thing he made the wrong choice before you killed them. Was there a right one?" his eyes were dark and calm despite all that had transpired.

She thought about it a second and replied, "No, I guess there was not a right one. He just chose the worst of the two."

"Good." That was all he said with a nod of approval and went back to his family.

"What do we do now?" he asked, studying all the death around him. It was nothing new to him but he, like the others, never dreamed it could happen to one of the great Elven cities.

"Help clean up the wounded, and collect the dead." With her words came her first thoughts of Legolas. Did he and the others fair as well as her and Faramir? She had not seen them for the duration of the battle. He stomach dropped, and a deep sickening feeling rolled through her. "The others?"

Faramir, knowing who she meant, shook his head, "I do not know." His face showed the same concern and dread as hers, though hers was more directly attuned to a certain elf.

She closed her eyes and pushed, searching for his presence, that feeling of comfort and peace. The feeling only he brought to her. She had never tried it before, but she held to hope that it would work. The feeling lead her to him without her force, this had to work. Then an image slammed into her mind, giving her a jolt. It was Legolas, pulling Gimli to his feet. Both were bloody butt both fine. Seeing through his eyes, she saw Gandalf and Aragorn walking to them.

Relief flooded her from the sighting and she opened her eyes, smiling at Faramir. "They are all fine, on the ground level at the entrance to the city."

"How do you know this?"

"I saw it, I am not sure how, like seeing it through Legolas' eyes." She told him, knowing she gave a bit too much, but she did not care at the moment. It was then that she noticed how weak she was and in pain. Why was she in pain? Everything should be healed already. "I think I need…"

"Túrante!" Faramir called as she stumbled down. He barely caught her and was surprised by her weight, but managed to ease her down to a fallen wall nearby.

Now that her adrenaline levels had decreased, the pain in her body was evident and her mind was clouded. This should not be happening was all she could think clearly, but did not know why. She heard Faramir talking but his words did not register; it was like a foreign language. Túrante kept telling herself to focus, focus on his face—okay that was done. Focus on his mouth, his lips—done. Now focus on his words, what he is saying.

It started working its way through then, she was picking up bits and pieces as it became clearer.

"Why are you not healing? You have that ability do you not? It is not working." He asked and told her all at once.

Before she could answer there was another face blurring out Faramir's. It was the mother of the child she rescued. Why was she in front of her?

"You saved my child."

Túrante could not answer her. Her mouth moved but no words came out, she could not even force a mumble.

"I will help you." The woman bent down and began ripping away her cloths right there in front of all the people scurrying around. "Work on her face." She told Faramir, handing him supplies and he followed her directions.

"Help…others…fine…go…" she coughed out, frustrated her words came jumbled and barely understandable. And she gasps as the elleth gripped her leg with a strong hand and stared straight at her face.

"There are plenty of us around and left to care for the injured, which you are," she added hastily. "You saved my child, I am returning the favor. Sit there and let me finish." Túrante was quite taken aback by her stern scolding and angered by Faramir's laugh.

She scowled at him but it did no good, he kept right up until he looked over her shoulder. His eyes lost their humor but for only a split second.

"What?" she asked in a hoarse whisper. Glad she could at least manage a single word.

"We are about to have company."

She was confused for only a second because she felt him coming in the next. It was Legolas. She never had a chance to warn him of the scary elf woman working on her. He was blubbering out question after question, giving no one a chance to speak before he got a lashing from the she elf.

"You!" she spat and pointed to Legolas, "Are in my way, move, now!" He was as dumbfounded as Túrante was the first time, and she attempted a giggle, which turned into a coughing fit. He ignored the other elf's protest and grabbed her hand. Faramir placed a hand on his shoulder to try to back him away.

It was not instant, but the tingling started in her fingers and began moving through her arm and chest, traveling down to her leg. It hit the wound and sent a muffled cry through her lips. There was pain, not as bad as before but it was there. Before she never felt herself heal, this time she felt everything. The individual stands of muscles and tissues joining together, knitting new skin over top. In all her years she had never felt anything like it, and did not know if she wanted to again.

The others stepped back in astonishment, gaping wide eyed at her leg.

"Okay the show is over, but I think next time I will let the elleth heal me." She laughed, feeling better yet still weak.

"What happened?"

"I healed myself, with help. It has never happened that way before, the only I guess I have is the poison affected my ability to heal as well." She told them.

She thanked the she elf, whose name she never got, as Legolas and Faramir helped her to her feet and to walk towards the others. One part of the battle was over now the rest lay in front of them and they had to be ready.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

She was walking with the others, surveying the damage when move screams of horror broke through the deafening silence. They all looked to the east and, standing high on the roof of the top level stood Eglanon, and he was not alone. Struggling to stand, kneeling before him was Elrond. Túrante slipped quietly away from the group, no one in their terror noticed her absence.

"People of Rivendell, I clap to you, defeating a small portion of my troops, well done." And he stopped to clap. "However, you must know I cannot accept defeat, so I have before you your Lord. I will tell you he put up little fight for his people." He shook his head in mock disgust.

Legolas then turned to Túrante, "Túrante you must…" and only then noticed she was gone, and scanned the area for her. His hope of saving the great elf lord was greatly diminishing without her. She was the only one who could get there in time.

"Now without further ado, I shall kill him for you all to see, I would love to drag out the suspense but I have important things to see to this evening." His smile was evil as he raised the sword above his head, Elrond starring straight into his merciless eyes as the sword came crashing down.

The next thing Legolas knew there was a chorus of noises; a familiar scream, a howl of anger, and gasps. A top the roof, a woman's figure kneeled, wings spread, blocking Eglanon from Lord Elrond. Turante. And though He watched Eglanon falter, his heart fell as the sword stroke ripped open her back.

She had timed it perfectly, she blocked her brother stroke, but with enough time to spare that he lessened his swing. The blow ripped through her, a scream she could not hold back echoed around her mixing Eglanon's own fury. Wind was whipping around them, a night storm brewing from the west. Her brown hair pulling free of its constraints, whipped behind her.

She had no time to waste thinking of her injury; she was already turning and blocking his next blow. Their swords clanged in mid air and stuck, and she could all but feel his fury.

"You will not touch him." She growled from deep in her throat, eyes narrowed to slits.

"I shall kill him, all of them. I will take great pride in your new friends especially." He smiled, though she saw some doubt in his eyes, but it did not matter.

She felt it coursing through her, some strange magic, and only reacted. Túrante attacked with a vengeance she did not know she had in her. He was matching her blows, but falling back. Her movements came from her soul, her heart, she never thought once until she delivered a kick to his abdomen and he cascaded down the drop. Fear in his eyes he took off, following his defeated troops. She through her sword with all her strength and watched it land nicely in his lower back. It did not stop him but it would be a nasty injury.

Walking back to Elrond, she offered a hand to pull him up. "Thank you."

She nodded her acceptance, "Can you make it down from here?"

This time he nodded his reply and nimbly descended from one roof top to the next, even with a few minor injuries. Once she knew he made it safely to the bottom she jumped off, wings out to land softly beside him, elves rushing to his side, all but knocking her over, and shoving her out of the way.

"Do you need a hand miss?" a voice asked.

It was one of Elrond's twins, now holding her a hand; she gave a soft smile, "Thank you, I need to sit down. I need space, quiet."

"Stay behind me, do not let go."

And she did just that, until he told her she could sit. Her legs all but collapsed under her and she closed her eyes willing to focus on anything but the pain. It had been a very long age indeed since she had to endure the sensation of pain for an extended amount of time; she had always healed so quickly.

Soon the distant voices of elves edged closer and closer, until she was once again encompassed by noise and opened her eyes, noting that Elrohir, the brother she believed it to be, stayed by her side—with some distance. Legolas and the others were in front of the crowd.

"No sleep for the weary I see," trying to laugh, and managing to put a smile of the elf prince's face, who again came to offer her a hand to stand up, which she accepted, though with a questioning eye.

He shrugged, seeming to understand her, "thought it might help the others accept you."

"It is a nice though but I believe it may take more than that." Túrante replied with a sad smile.

"You might be surprised."

When the men got to her, she was ambushed with questions, and already being short of breath, was on the verge of just passing out from trying to respond.

"Give her a moment lads, I believe you all are about to send her over the edge with all the badgering." Gimli stated, silencing all the others, who seemed to be completely unaware in all their concern.

"Thank you Gimli, I think you are very right," she managed to mumble out with half a chuckle. "No I am not alright, however, I am in no immediate danger of dying. That being said, there are wounded in dire need of care that you need to see before me. Now, what is there that you need me to do My Lord?"

"I cannot ask you to do more than you already have Túrante." He replied.

"You can, and you will. I may be injured, I am not dead, and can work like the rest of you. What do I need to do?" She asked again.

Elrond sighed, knowing she was right, Legolas and the others also did not seem happy, but under the circumstances, none could tell her otherwise.

"We need make shift healing quarters for the wounded set up in the great hall and ball room. Horses pulling supplies cannot get there. I need you assemble the tents and supplies, they can be found in the storage room on the ground floor of the south wing."

"I will see to it." She answered and started to walk off when Legolas called her.

"Yes?"

"You might want to wear this," he informed her holding out his vest. She just gave him a puzzled look. "Your back, you might want to cover it. The area will need to be as clean as possible."

"Right, thank you." She took the vest and slipped it on her shoulders, hiding her back. She had not thought of that fact in the rush of things.

She worked hard, first assembling all the white tents to separate the wounded and the cots next, and they were pouring in almost faster than she could set up. Once one room was filled she began in the ball room, and then on to the next, which she was not sure which room it was but it was large.

When she recalled the last wounded being brought in, she quietly slipped out and made for her room where she could clean up better. The throb in her back that had eased off was back in full and she needed to see to it. Elrond she knew would be able to heal it quickly but he had enough injured to worry with at the present time.

In her room drew up a hot bath and stripped down, examining herself in the mirror. She sighed, though the bleeding had stopped the wound was still gapping open, the hot water would not feel too soothing on it, so Túrante opted to scrub down with a cloth and soap outside the tub. She felt much better and found a lightweight night dress with a low back so it would not disturb her back.

Then there was a rap at her door, she knew instinctively who it was, the presence of him seeping through the cracks in the door. She debated to leave it shut but knew he would come in either way. Wincing, she pulled on the overcoat and walked to the door.

He walked right in without even a greeting. She grunted and closed the door.

"You know it does not look right for you to be in here, Elven culture and all." She told him as she joined him on the veranda.

"I care not. How is your back? You never came down for Lord Elrond to treat it." He inquired

"Better."She responded, easing back into the room, away from him.

"Will you let me see it?"

She did not answer right away, granted she craved his touch and the feeling that came with it, but she feared it as well, and knowing it would heal her wound shook her. She was not used to being scared and did not much like it.

"Whether I said yes or no, I am sure you would find a way around it." Huffing, she lowered the overcoat and heard his gasp.

"You will let me bandage it?" it was more of a statement than a question.

"Not likely you will need to," she whispered.

"What was that?" Legolas returned, and she silently cursed. It was either this or get healed in front of the other wounded, she opted for this less open route.

"In the bathroom, bottom shelf."

He returned with the salve and dressings, motioning her to sit on the stool he had drug in and she did, bracing herself for the touch.

It was cool, and the shock simmered through her body in tiny pulses. She tightened her grip on the stool readying herself for the pain. It was not as bad as the first time, she was more prepared, however the mending process was no more pleasant.

"Elrond called for aide, The Lady of Lòrien rides hither at first light with all her troops." Legolas thought she would have wanted to know.

"Galadriel rides here?" Túrante jerked around, eyeing the ellon behind her.

"Aye, I do not know what the plan is expect he summoned her and she answered. There will be a meeting tomorrow; we are all expected to be there." With that he turned her back around and kept working.

So her old friend was coming here, after many a year they would be reunited. It was not how she had pictured it, in her mind it would have been a happy reunion, not one tainted by the shadow of war and death. This, however, was the reality of life. No matter the circumstances she would rejoice in their meeting.

"Why do you not use your given name?"

"What?" he thought process was shattered and she was completely caught off guard by him once again, "I go by my name?"

"No, I was referring to Canye."

"That has not been my name for many ages." She proclaimed in a short haughty tone.

"It does not fit you. Bringer of victory for us maybe, but not to him, not anymore. You let it taint you." His voice was soft as he continued to apply the dressings.

"It is not a name that taints me, Legolas, it is what I am. I am a damned, cursed creature." She did not like where this was going, it was too personal, too deep, laced with too much pain and hurt.

"I believe you are what you chose to be, and you are anything but what you think. No damned creature would have done what you did today, or in the past. I know this."

She wheeled around, "Do not pretend to know me, prince. You know nothing. Having the urge to attack another living being, to suck them dry for your own pleasure, the burn to deny myself that, it is no trait of a living person."

Legolas' own anger was boiling up now, "And you do neither, you overcome it every day and have for the past four ages of Middle earth. You hide behind the name of a monster, because it is easier."

"Easier?" she almost laughed, "If I had chosen the easier path, I would be less than those monsters we fought today, and I would be more than dead by the hand of the valor themselves."

"Exactly."

Her mouth dropped open; she just got outsmarted by an elf. She had this argument played out in her head for so many years and in less than two minutes he had managed to rile her up and get her to admit she was not the monster. And to her horror she knew he was right that she did hide because it was easier."

"Damn you," she growled.

He only smiled, "The valor would not have spared you Canye, had you been any less than you are."

He was walking closer to her and her name on his lips all but broke her.

"I do not know what is between us, do not deny it," he chastised as she was about to do just that, "But being a creature of light, I know that valor would not have it between us if you were any less than you are." He said again, inching ever closer, till she was backed into a wall.

She was struggling against all she had, trying to find escape routes from the onslaught of the elf, but her eyes were stuck to his. She had heightened senses and reflexes and now she could not use one to get away.

He was within inches of her now, fingers lightly trailing down her cheek, "Please do not," she whimpered, "You make me feel too human."

"Technically that would be too much like an elf," he chuckled.

"You make me feel too much, it scares me." She should have been angry, she was opening up to much, but there was a pull inside her much too great for the anger to overcome.

"Aye, I know the feeling." And cupping the back of her head, his lips brushed ever so lightly upon hers. The jolt was more than anything she had ever felt, it seemed to surround her entire being body and soul. For the moment everything was right, everything was perfect.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Legolas paced around his room most of the night and through the early morning hours. Sleep he needed, but knew it would never come. He had kissed her, a blood elf. _'No, no, no,' _he told himself, _'that is not who she is.' _There were times he could almost forget what she was, like last night. So elf-like, she had lost her control on her mask and was little more than any elleth Legolas had known, but more, much, much more.

He knew he had pushed too much and too far, but he had come to the point there was no turning back. The lines had blurred between them and whether that was a positive occurrence or not, he did not know. Still the feeling of her lips on his still lingered. They were cold, like the rest of her body, but he felt only warmth and life and longing.

He shook himself from the thoughts, the meeting was fast approaching and he needed to ready himself. The elves of Lòrien would be arriving in the next few days to a week; they would travel light and fast in this crisis.

Pulling on clean breeches, tunic and surcoat made of the finest elvish linen he made his way to the meeting hall, which was now in Lord Elrond's personal office and the wounded were taking up much of the larger meeting hall.

Walking in, he nodded to the few already gathered, noting that Canye was not yet there. He had in his mind made up that he would call her that from now on. She was not a 'bringer of victory' to him any longer. However, he did not think she ever really was, there was always something more. Now all he could do now was to sit and wait.

She was not taking her time getting ready; she was rushing as fast as she could go. For one of the few times in her long life she had overslept. _'And it would be on the day of a gathering.' _She thought to herself bitterly. She felt the urge to go at top speed down the halls, knowing she would make it on time, but also knew the few elves up and about at this time would not appreciate it much, they were already wary of her. So she walked briskly, looking straight ahead and ignoring as much as possible the stares boring into her. It was not an easy task.

She had never had to deal with such scrutiny; she was either hidden in the shadows or among her own people. She would overcome this, she had told herself over and over again, like all the other obstacles. Ignoring people should be an easy task, but it was anything but. Her thirst she fought back could not judge her, her vampiric longings could not judge her, and those around could and very often did.

She slipped quietly into the office unnoticed and took a seat in the back, glad to see they had not yet commenced. Legolas was there, she felt it the moment she entered. Seated beside him were Aragorn and Gimli, with Faramir and Gandalf beside them. There remained an empty seat by Gandalf which she chose not to take, she preferred not to be in front and guessed many others would feel better if she was not. The men all glanced at her, none saying a word. Then Elrond walked in dressed in regal attire of creamy satin.

"My friends, my people, we have been attacked by a formidable foe, one that many knew not existed and from our lack of knowledge we were left unprepared." He spoke in a clear ringing voice, bouncing off the stone walls. His face was solemn and filled with sorrow and anger she could see clearly.

"Many have lost their lives, gave their blood, to defend our home. But, many more survived and are in healing, for this we are grateful."Elrond declared with a small smile.

"However, being your lord I have come to a hard decision. We need aide and cannot ourselves leave for refuge when so many are gravely wounded. The Lady Galadriel rides hither with a host of elves to arrive within a week's time."

There were gasps from some, but more nodded their heads in approval, Túrante was among them yet did nothing.

"I have another offer I must accept, and fear I may have waited too long. Many will disagree; many will be angry, and more frightened and confused."

Everyone was now in a state of confusion, everyone but Túrante, her stomach felt as if it had fallen straight down to her feet, she knew in the pit of her stomach what would come next.

"The Lady Túrante counseled me to move to Lòrien, fearing our new enemy, I declined. Whether that would have stopped this attack I know not. She also gave leave to her people to fight and to train our warriors, I also declined. I ask now Túrante," he gestured to her with a nod and so she stood, "Will your people fight with us, bleed with us, and die with us?"

"My Lord, are you certain? If this is truly your wish my people will fight, we shall follow you and your people to battle." Her voice was steady as she confirmed her acceptance but she felt the quiver in her hands, threatening to turn to a quake. She was opening her people to ridicule and scorn to follow their oath of long ago, knowing they would follow to whatever end.

He walked to her, held out a hand. Her eyes grew big and questioning and she had a slight hesitation before grabbing his with her own cold one. He seemed to neither notice nor care. "I thank you, I know what it is I bring upon your people coming here."

"It is our duty and our oath to fulfill for the Valar and if it means here under your command so be it. We shall arrive in two days time." She replied stiffly but with a firm shake and left the hall. She knew it was weak but she also knew in that moment she could not face the onslaught of outrage that was already echoing down the corridor. She could still clearly hear them.

"What have you done?"

"Is not one of the monsters here enough?"

"It is them who brought this plague upon us!"

There of course were people coming to her defense but they were outnumbered and she could not focus on those voices, they were drowned out by all the others.

She straightened her shoulders, held her head high and forced herself on, knowing her people were strong and would endure this as they had endure other hardships since their creation. She walked to the edge of Rivendell and looked back, the great house still visible to her eyes, she also saw Legolas, rather his outline. She knew it was him, no other would see her off. Then she watched the others, Gandalf unmistakable with his white staff, and Faramir too joined him. Maybe she thought, she did have some friends in this, and that she was not all alone and with that thought she took off into the air towards home for the first time in many years.

…

A wave of nostalgia swamped her system as she landed within her boarders and walked the hidden path to the grand gates of her city.

They rose high into the sky their white washed stone reflecting into the early morning sun, the old Quenya elvish scrawled neatly across the top, and intricate moon designs embellished the rest. The carvers had worked long and hard to create them, they only way in was to state the password. It was simple, 'Tolo dan na ngalad.' Or come back to the light, it seemed fitting when they left the dungeons of Angband to make their sanctuary.

Inside the gates the city of Calithil, farmland spread for miles along the bordering wall, where they grew all sorts of crops and trees for harvesting. The rolling hills in full bloom this time of year were ripe with harvest. On past that houses began to appear. They were built in lofts in the tops of the old oak trees, much in fashion of Lòrien, but not to the grandeur of the great city. Closer to the walls of the mountains, there was an entire market in the tree tops that ascended to the ground where it continued on filled with shops of dressmakers, blacksmiths, bakeries and such the like.

There they had built into the mountain, carving grand halls and rooms. Here is where she called home, on the topmost floor in the mountain, with a balcony facing the whole of the city Túrante lived. Below her all her commanding officers, maids, and any who wished it housed. They had their nobility ranks, but each person chose their own. When they came here, they knew they would need all the workings of any great city, but birth right played no part. If one wanted to farm, that was there choice, if they wanted to serve as a maid they chose to, or if they wanted to be in the nobility so be it. Many chose the ranks they held in their other life time. It was what was familiar with them and brought a sense of normalcy back they had not had in ages.

It did not take long from her stepping through the gates that she was surrounded by vampires, clad in deep navy and gold, cloaked in grey, pointing swords. It was nice to see they did at least keep watch as instructed, even if that meant threatening their Queen.

"My Lady!" one yelled as recognition hit him and he bowed deeply the others following suit.

"Rise, we have not the time for proper manners at this time. I need Hallon and Larcien summoned to my quarters and the kingdom gathered in the square." Túrante instructed in a queenly manner that was foreign to her. They had chosen her to rule and lead them; however honored it was always had to act a queen for her people.

They asked no questions, they just nodded and did exactly as she asked without hesitation. She was about to test their loyalty to the brink and she just hoped it was strong enough to withstand.

Crowds had already amassed along the cobblestone street as she made her way to the Mountains feet. They cheered and greeted her, not knowing no happiness lay before them. That she brought only blood and death, but so was their existence founded upon; they could not live in peace forever.

The reunion with her two of her greatest friends and confidants other than the Lady Galadriel was bitter sweet. Hallon was her second in command and who she left in charge in her absence. He was tall, even for an elf, hence his name. His blond hair and green eyes only added to his appeal. Hallon belong to Larcien, her third in command and a very strong willed woman. She could closely pass as her twin if not for the eyes, unlike Túrante's gold her eyes were a deep grey and her hair just shades darker.

The three of them had been the ones to plan and carry out their attack on Morgoth.

"My friends, I wish I came home with good tidings and happiness, but I do not."

Hallon smiled, "Neither I nor Larcien believed you come back with such news, not after your letters. The turning tides are a shadow indeed on all our minds." he knew her well enough to know it was much too soon for her restless spirit to come home on its own accord.

"I pray I have not neglected my people for too long they will not follow in what is too come." Túrante spoke, her fears coming to the surface.

"You may leave home, but they know you do not leave them, they shall always look to you and follow as will we Túrante."Larcien replied, resting her hand on her friend's shoulder in reassurance.

'_They may yet change their minds, _she thought to herself before telling all of the news and what they must yet face. She did leave out a few key points, such as her dealings with Legolas, those were unnecessary details.

The orders hit them hard she knew, but they also took it in stride and were ready. They had all been waiting for the day they would face Eglanon again and put an end to their oath, to finally fulfill their debt to the Valar. And so they marched to the veranda overlooking the central square and the entirety of the kingdom gathered below to deliver the speech Túrante dreaded more than any other.

"People of Calithil, I wish I came home with good tidings, but I cannot say so."

Their cheers and applause stopped, and all were quiet at her statement, faces turning hard as if they knew what words would spill from her tongue next.

"Many of you I am sure have heard stirrings that Eglanon has resurfaced; I am here to tell you it is truth. These past years I have been traveling around when I was faced with a choice to remain hidden or reveal myself. The great kings and lords of Middle Earth were traveling near my location at the time, one being injured. After spotting them, I knew the culprit of the attack they had encountered, though in my heart I did not want to accept it. It was put to light when Eglanon appeared the dame night, it was no coincident.

I have been staying in Rivendell as of late," murmurs rippled through the crowd, "It was attack by our enemy, who has now created new fledglings and morphed many into creatures even more hideous than him himself.

We pledge long ago to the Valar to put an end to all who stray from our path and to stay hidden. We can do the later no longer. Our presence is known now and to fulfill our duty we must fight along elves and men. We have been summoned to Rivendell to do as much.

"I will not force any who wish to not go to do so; I will say, this will be our stand, This will be our victory as it was three ages ago against not Morgoth but our new enemy Eglanon—my brother," the named choked out of her mouth. "We were never supposed to be made, but here we are. We have done as we planned and as we promised, now it is time to repay the Valar for their mercy. This will be our stand!"

Cheers and swords rose into the air, all chanting we stand, we stand. She scanned the gathered crowd and not one remained silent. They had been waiting for this day three ages and they would follow her to war.

In the morning she pulled on the grey breeches of her riding attire along with the gold undershirt and her navy surcoat. They sported a flowing split up the front to the waist and fell mid-calf in the back with the gold under layer poking through from under the top coat. The sleeves belled out from the elbows adding more flowing fabric of navy and gold trimmed in silver. The silver belt matched the ornate design barely visible in the fabric, moons hidden in the pattern as it was the symbol of their city.

She had decided to dress as the queen she was to her people for their arrival at Rivendell and so she pulled out her crown that had not been upon her head in 70 years.

It was made of gold by the elves in Lòrien, to encircle her head in ivy leaves and flowers, at its center a crescent moon with a pearl at its center. Amethyst and sapphire stones adorned the flowers as soft delicate strands hung down where her ears would be to flow into her hair, glittering with flecks of blue.

Gingerly she placed it on her head, closing her eyes as she did so, feeling the weight of it as she did. Looking in the mirror she was not the same person she remembered. Her stood a Queen, not a lone vampire wandering through the wilds.

Without a backwards glance she strode out to her people.

They would travel on horseback. Their horses were descendants of the elvish horse, faster than any and with the endurance of many. She was pleased to see her grey stallion Suldal standing ready. The horses, just as the people, wore matching attire. Their bridles were think wide yet supple leather. A smaller band joining in the center of their face to form an x was decorated with elvish script and jewels in the colors of the city. From the reins hung silk fabric embellished with moons and tassels. The breast plate was matching to the bridle with jewels and designs and thick brown leather. All the horses also sported the silk fabric running down their croup and covering their haunches with the silver moon glimmering against the navy.

Mounting her horse she spoke to her people again, "This morning we ride to Rivendell to face our fate and defeat our enemy."

Cheers went up like a flame fed with fuel, though she continued, "Do not look to acceptance by Rivendell's people, you will find none. Your brothers and sisters are your friends. You trust them, you trust me, the Lord Elrond and Galadriel, and you trust the remaining members of the fellowship of the Ring. This is all. Now we ride!"


	20. Chapter 19

Please note: I still do not have a beta reader and therefore there will be grammatical errors in this and other chapters. I ask that you please point out any you may find so that they may be corrected asap!

Note: I do not own the lyrics of the song used in this chapter they are the property of the composure, writer, and singer!

Chapter 19

They entered the realm of Rivendell at first light, the horns sounding in the distance announcing their approach. Túrante straightened in her saddle and Suldal pranced under her, neck arched in anticipation. She had to reign in her fears, now was not the time for fear. Her city had emptied, none had stayed behind, none had wanted to.

She saw the great Elven city looming in the distance and the shapes of its inhabitants scurrying to the entrance. They would be disappointed in their greeting, the Lothlorien riders were another day behind them.

Suldal's hooves clanked on the stones popping up beneath his feet and she brought him to a halt, and the other riders followed suit, none moving. Elrond raised a hand in greeting.

Two elves came forward, her old guards, and she gave them both a small smile, "My Lady," They greeted as they took Suldal's reins and she dismounted and placed a hand on the closet's shoulder. She stood now before Elrond, most of Rivendell had emptied into the square.

"The lady cleans up rather nice," Gimli whispered to Legolas and the others in a gruff voice. Túrante had to stifle a laugh, it was comical coming from the dwarf but he had bad timing.

"As a Queen should," Gandalf replied, gaining Túrante's attention for a split second.

Turning back to the Elf Lord, she held out her hand and descended to one knee. Her people and the elves exchanged curious glances. Then the vampires followed suited once they dismounted in one clean swoop.

"What is she doing?" Legolas asked.

"She is surrendering to his rule. She may be a queen to her people, but she is giving that power to Elrond. It was a smart move to do here in front of the ones gathered." Aragorn answered, in awe of Túrante. She looked the queen she was, with a beauty none could compare, as did all those who followed her.

"My Lord Elrond," she addressed, "As Queen of the city of Calithil I give myself and troops to your service." She closed her eyes, not sure if she did the right thing.

"Thank you Lady Canye," She jerked her head up as did her people, "You truly are a bold one and worthy of such a title." Elrond said. She wanted to look at Legolas, he had been the last to say such, yet she could not imagine him speaking of anything to Elrond, not yet. These elves would be the destruction of her wall. Bit by bit she was crumpling under them.

She stood then with a solemn nod and motioned her people to do the same. "We are over 300 hundred strong, none stayed in the city. If it pleases you we should like to make camp outside the city and in the woods surrounding for both the comfort of my people and yours."

"It is granted, the city will be open to you all if things should change."

"Thank you My Lord."

"It it Elrond now, we are both leaders and shall give each other the respect deserved." He smiled at her and she nodded.

Before she could turn, the company was there, patting her on the back telling her they were glad she returned, but something was missing and looking around she saw him leaving. He had not come to her but walked away. It brought a pang to her heart and uneasiness to her soul. It was a matter she would attend to later, now she had to settle in her people, with the company who continued their talking and mingling.

Outside the entrance she found a nice cove of trees and a stream were they could set up tents and have plenty of room and still be close enough for quick communication. Once she had the starting she set up her own tent a little farther away for privacy. Upon completion she looked out and shook her head, there was the company, once so scared of her now having conversations with her top generals.

"You should bring us to meet friends more often, these people are quite enjoyable," Hallon exclaimed as a young child might.

"I agree, yet they make me feel old!" Larcien joked.

"You are old Larcien." Túrante informed her walking over to the group, getting a laugh from her friend. "How bad is it in the city concerning our arrival?" she asked, the laughter falling from Hallon and Larcien.

"Some bad and some good, elves do not take sudden change well and live a long time. Such things take time." Gandalf replied.

"I came to like you, which had to say something, most others will too I would think," Faramir told her, an evil grin on his face.

She laughed, it was short lived, but it felt good. "I believe saving your life helped."

"Aye, maybe, but I shall return the favor someday."

After meeting a few more vampires, the company left and she was left alone with her people.

"I like them," Larcien said, "if we had to come in the open I am glad it was for them." She watched with Túrante as they made the climb to Rivendell.

"Yes, but it is for more than them or us, it is for the whole of Middle Earth. But you are right, they help." She smiled to her friend, "How have you been?"

Larcien knew what she implied, she asked about the thirst. "Okay, it is there, but faint as it has been for years."

"And your tolerance for blood?" She hated asking these questions but she had to make sure others stayed safe.

"We have kept up practices our tolerance, it is no problem anymore."

It used to be for all of them, and how it was for her now, without Legolas's presence. It seared her throat constantly and the urges were strong. But she used everything she had to fight them down, it only added to her weariness.

"That was not the whole fellowship was it?" She asked in curiosity, getting past the serious conversation.

"No, the hobbits of course are back in the Shire. Or so I would presume."

"Aye, I doubt they would have much to do with this war. But was there an elf?" She questioned, noticing Túrante stiffen. "what?"

"Nothing. Yes there was. He is in Rivendell with the others." Túrante stated, trying to ease the tension from her voice, she could tell Larcien, she had been with her since the beginning along with Hallon, yet she never knew them as her time as an elf as she did with Galadriel, it was just hard to admit such out loud. If she said it out loud, let someone hear, it made it more real, more tangible, more to fear.

"Something troubles you." It was not a question Larcien asked, she knew it was a fact but also knew that unless Túrante was ready, she would not speak.

She sighed, "You are right my friend, yet now is not the time to speak of it." Larcien nodded and Túrante felt relief gush through her, glad her friend knew he well.

They parted ways soon after, and Túrante made her way to her old get away, the overgrown rose garden. It had been many a day since she went and she knew sleep would not come easily. Once she entered over the back wall hidden by vines, she knew she was not alone. He was there by the fountain, the thirst backed off and all her vampiric urges dissipated. She should have made her presence known, but she did not, she just watched him for a time before she stepped out.

"I did not expect to find you here." She said evenly, almost smiling when the elf jumped.

"Nor I you."

He was curt, she noted, angry. She may not have telepathic abilities as Galadriel but she could sense emotions well enough when they were strong. She had only to assume it was over their last encounter, of course she could not blame him. Once he realized what he had done he was bound to be disgusted and angry, even mortified.

"No matter, I shall leave you to your solitude." She replied back haughtily, catching his glance.

"Do not bother, I was just leaving." He stood, brushing the leaves and dirt from his tunic.

She knew she should have kept her mouth shut, but she could not help her need to hear him state the reason. "You are angry."

"In ways." He stared into her golden orbs with his own blue ones, his feelings a mixture of emotions gurgling beneath the surface of his cool demeanor.

"I cannot say I blame you." Túrante informed him, appearing at his side in a split second. Sitting on the ledge, she trailed a finger through the water, sending ripples cascading into the stone.

He gave her a confused expression, and she clarified, "For the other day, after the battle, I cannot blame you for being angry. I had honestly expected the reaction a lot sooner than so."

To her horror he laughed, a full genuine laugh that she had rarely heard from him, and her eyes narrowed, "What is so humorous? I find nothing about this funny."

He continued to laugh and managed to sputtered out a sentence between chuckles, "I was angry before now, but not for those reasons. You would think that of course."

"Do not lie to me." She snarled, believing him to mock her.

"I lie to you not, do not get angry. Do you want me to prove it to you?"

Before she could move, to stunned to realize what was about to take place, he grabbed her and somehow managed to yank her torso against his own and plant his lips to hers again. Her body was not her own, her lips moving of their own accord in sync with his. She felt tingling warmth spread from his contact.

Why was she unable to move, to step away from him? Strength was much greater than his own and yet here she was, stuck. Her heart raced, and she began to struggle and Legolas released her, letting her stumble backwards. When her heels brushed the edge of the fountain she leaped to perch on the top, eyes glaring at the ellon below, whose were laughing.

"Another time I shall tell you why I was angry, but not tonight." He smiled and walked away without another backwards glance, letting her burning thirst to come full on, unknowingly. What would he do if he knew just what his absence caused? She had to wonder, but slinked off into the night to find a more secluded perch to think.

In the early morning light Túrante gathered Hallon and Larcien to join her with Elrond to await the host from Lòrien, she had secretly sent some of her troops to flank them at a distance to watch from the enemy, there had been no trouble, but she was past putting things beyond Eglanon.

She was jittery with anticipation as she watched her old friend approach. Galadriel was dressed in a stunning white gown, embroidered with golden thread and crystal beads, and she fit it perfectly. Her golden wavy locks, falling past her waist was like a portrait of perfection. She always had that regal air and beauty to rival anyone.

She greeted Elrond in sorrow for the loss of their kind and the havoc reeked on the city. They quickly discussed meeting times, most of which Túrante dismissed and heard nothing of. And then she looked past his should, a smile forming on her pink lips.

Walking past Elrond, she opened her arms and embraced Túrante, their arms locking around each other in clear affection, shocking all those around them save for Celeborn and Haldir, they knew of the Queens affiliation with the Túrante.

"Too long has it been my friend since last was your visit." She pushed Túrante back to get a good look at her, "And dressed as you ought to be." She smiled and she felt herself laugh as she had not in a long time, thinking also of Gimli's comment the other morn.

"Aye it has, but much has transpired, tonight we shall discuss many things." She had forgotten how much she truly missed Galadriel over the years. She paid no heed to the others gathered.

"We shall, this must be the lord Hallon and lady Larcien, I have heard many good things about you." She smiled at the two blood elves behind Túrante, who were taken aback and both replied in unison, "Yes my lady."

"I look forward to speaking with you more, now, however, it is time to set up and begin our many meetings." She looked around at the others, nothing was said out loud, but she could tell on the companies faces, she spoke in their minds as she often did.

The meeting that day had been brief; many were weary from travel and needed rest. They braked near nightfall and started to prepare for dinner; Túrante excused them from the meeting and made their way back to their camp outside the city.

She planned to meet with Galadriel after all the festivities had ended. They may have taken a hard blow but the elves would rejoice for the living and the arrival of their kin. Much singing and dancing would follow into the wee hours and Túrante planned to sit alone and listen from afar.

It brought back many memories from Valinor, which she did not realize she still recalled. There were balls and feast and merrymaking all the time. Life was good and prosperous but her spirit grew weary, it longed for adventure and something more than what she had. She was not alone, Galadriel felt the same as well as many others, and they talked often of Middle Earth and what it would be like. None were as ready as she and she pleaded her case with Varda, whose Maiar was her mother. Reluctantly the Valar agreed to send her over the great sea.

There were so many new places to explore and things to find. The land was vast and a multitude of animals inhabited it peacefully, none skittish of her at all, she was at peace again in her soul.

It was a lonely venture; however, she had no companions save the animals, whom had grown to be her friends. She spoke to them often in the language of her old home, Quenya. One night she saw smoke rising from far in the north and being curious and bold, never fearing, she ventured to find its source.

Then is when she was ensnared. She planned to wake up, this is where she always woke, but it did not happen. Invisible bonds wound their way around her, trapping her arms and legs, sending her to the ground. She gagged as the entities presence filled her. He materialized before her, taking human form. He was beautiful, more than any being elf or Valar that she had laid eyes upon. But it was fear that struck her heart; it was a false beauty he bore.

"Who are you?" she pleaded with him, feeling fear for the first time.

He laughed, and it was cruel and venomous.

"You shall know me child as your father, the one who awakened you to all that darkness can be." His voice was ice, chilling her to the bone. A hand clasps her throat, chocking her until she passed out.

When she woke she was in a black room, dripping water from its cracked ceiling. Her arms where burning, held high above her head, feet barely touching the ground. She let out a strangled cry.

"Hush hush now, cries will not help you."

She tried to jerk around, ropes cutting into her flesh to find the master of the voice, she found none.

"Where am I, why have you done this?"

"You are in Angband my dear, and I have brought you here to be my best creation, you shall be great."

A cold hand she could not see ran down her cheek.

"Once I have finished, you shall thank me. I hate to mess your beauty, it is what attracted me to you to start with. No matter, I shall make you more beautiful than any other by the time this has ended."

Canye heard a crack and then a blinding pain ripped her body. He was whipping her! What had she done to deserve this? She did not understand.

She woke to find herself being placed inside a coffin and shut in; she pounded on the sides, on the roof, and kicked and scratched, until there was little left but for her to accept death and then he released her, tossing her to the ground like a used garment.

She could tell he was angry when he came in the next day something had not gone right. He snatched her by the wrist and drug her to a large metal holder, opening a door he pushed her in, where she saw only small drilled hole in the bottom and nothing more. She struggled to find a way out when the smoke filtered in. It filled her lungs and the heat was all but melting her skin away. She screamed until her voice failed and she could no longer move, blackness took her.

She heard chanting fill the air around her, in a language she did not recognize. It was harsh and gurgling, and filled her hear with dread, they were evil words, demonic words. She knew she could die, knew she could let herself fade away but she was not willing to give up, she would find a way to get free of this torture of this mad man.

She registered pain from all areas of her body, it felt as if she were being ripped apart by her limbs and it only got worse. She heard the creak of a crank and the huffing of the man's breath. Her bones snapped, and agony washed over her.

Canye felt a warm liquid being poured on her face, in her mouth. There was a bitter iron taste. Was he giving her blood? She struggling to move to make it stop but movement brought her to the brink, the pain was too much and she blacked out.

She did not know how much more she could take, her body was broken, and her mind was close to losing its grip on reality.

Her blistered skin peeled back to reveal red and raw flesh, oozing with infection. Even if she tried to hold on for a little longer she would not last, she had to accept her death. Whatever his plan was, it was not working he took out his anger and frustration on her more and more each time he tortured her.

When he came the next morning, Canye was all but spent, she did not even struggle.

"Today my dear, today shall be the day you rise again, you will join me." He smiled but she did not see it.

He tied her up, arms high above her head, her toes barely reaching the cold ground. Her arms already broken barely felt the pain. Then it began; the whip was thin, with many ends and spikes, she could hear her flesh ripping and her blood pooling beneath her. Tears streamed down her cheeks. So much of her wanted to die to give up, but that one small part of her remained intact and whole, she had to fight.

Next came the beating but by that point she had managed to withdraw into herself, she was oblivious. Her body was broken, there was no freedom for her body now but he would not take her mind. She could not defy him mutilating her body, but she could resist another way. She sang it was an old song, one she heard Nienna sing often.

Her voice was soft but it was enough, she heard the rage in his voice and felt it reverberate around the room and she smiled, what she believed would be her last and kept singing.

'_Lay down _

_Your sweet and weary head _

_Night is falling _

_You have come to journeys end  
_

_Sleep now and dream _

_Of the ones who came before _

_They are calling _

_From across the distant shore'_

She was faint, most of her blood lay pooled beneath her and he was once again pouring a bag of blood down her mouth, but she never stopped her song. Her Quenya language battling his evil language._  
_

'_Why do you weep? _

_What are these tears upon your face? _

_Soon you will see _

_All of your fears will pass away _

_Safe in my arms _

_You're only sleeping  
_

_What can you see on the horizon? _

_Why do the white gulls call? _

_Across the sea a pale moon rises _

_The ships have come to carry you home_

_All all will turn, to silver glass_

_A light on the water, all souls pass'  
_

He beat his fist on the post holding her in anger, then stopped. He looked back at her and made a slice across his on skin. Surely his blood with the words would hold the key. He held great magic as did she and the power on which he called. It had to work he had no other options and he could not fail! Her voice, soft and faint angering him more, why did she just not stop, she should no

'_Hope fades Into the world of night _

_Through shadows falling _

_Out of memory and time  
_

_Don't say We have come now to the end _

_White shores are calling _

_You and I will meet again'_

His blood was hot, boiling down her throat, she choked but held back the bile rising, she would finish her song, it would be her last act of her free will on Middle Earth._  
_

'_What can you see on the horizon? _

_Why do the white gulls call? _

_Across the sea a pale moon rises _

_The ships have come to carry you home'_

The pain hit her then. If the torture her captor had inflicted was bad this made it seem a mere scratch. She burned from the inside out. Blood, bones, organs, skin, it was all on fire. Searing. She felt the power coursing through her, felt its malice fighting her very soul. She fought; she found a strength and power in her she did not know she had left. But she did not want this power to take her and so she sang still._  
_

'_And all will turn to silver glass _

_A light on the water _

_Grey ships pass into the west'_

Her song ended and the thirst hit and she lost all thought of consciousness.

Túrante woke screaming, her body on fire, blinded by pain, she fumbled through the trees, running from the pain that followed her and would not leave. She had to get out of the dungeon holding her, now was her chance, nothing was trapping her there. Hope sprang into her heart, she could really do it.

Then hands gripped either arm holding her back. She screamed again, louder.

"NO! let me go!" her voice screeched and she fought back with a vengeance, slicing at the force holding her back, trapping her in that living hell.

"You shall not keep me here! I will not go back!" She was erratic now, feeling her hand come into contact with something hard. She was released and took off again but did not make it far and was tackled.

Faintly she heard a far off voice call. "Túrante! Wake up, you are in Rivendell!"

"Come back to us!"

She struggled less, trying to understand what was going on.

"It was a dream it was not real."

"Come back, Túrante."

She quit fighting and the arms released her, she staggered to her feet, trying to focus her eyes. Two people stood, bent over hands on knees, panting for air looking at her warily and with deep concern. Hallon. Larcien.

What had she done? What had just happened? They were bleeding, Hallon worst of all. Had she attacked them? Túrante fell to her knees, sobbing.

She needed help, she needed Galadriel. She did not know if it would work but she had to try, she pushed out a mental plea to her old friend, begging her.

…

Inside Rivendell the festivities were at full swing, elves dancing and singing, enjoying their party and their kin folk. They were unaware of the unfolding scene just miles away.

The company was seated with Elrond and Galadriel and their closest counsel, talking joyfully, trying to forget the horrors they had faced and were going to face. Legolas felt it first, something was off, but he did not know what. He looked around the great room scanning the faces, finding nothing off.

"What is it laddie?" Gimli asked, giving the elf a nudge. I do not know, something is not right, I feel it..in here." He laid a hand on his heart. "Do you notice anything?" he asked.

"Nay, nothing. Maybe it is just something you ate. Would not trouble yourself with it."

But Legolas could not put it out of his mind. He looked at the others, noticing Galadriel began to fidget and Gandalf started after her and then Elrond. The others seemed greatly unaffected.

"You feel it do you not?" Legolas spoke aloud when none other did.

"It it heavy on m heart, it is pain and fear, though I see nothing wrong here." Galadriel spoke, her voice quite to minimize those who heard her.

"Aye," Gandalf and Elrond agreed.

"There is a malice growing on the wind, a foreboding. It is wrong here." The wizard said when Galadriel pushed a hand to her eyes and slammed a hand on the table.

"My Love?!" Celeborn exclaimed at the sudden change, the others startled.

She heard Túrante's voice in her head, vision flashed in her eyes: Blood and torture singing, Melkor. Túrante needed them, she was hurting. She opened her eyes, fear and grief flooding them.

"Túrante needs us." she all but cried, and her and Legolas were gone before the others, who soon followed suit.

When they got to the field, Galadriel seemed to know exactly where to go, they found her still sobbing in the wet grass, blood covered and clothes tattered. Hallon and Larcien also covered in blood but with no visible wounds, sitting near her, at a loss.

"What happened?!" They all but screamed at once, causing Túrante to curl farther into a ball.

"We do not know my lady and lords. We were asleep when we heard her scream, and came running. She was in a trance; I do not think she even saw us. She was already covered in blood, barely clothed. We grabbed her trying to calm her and she attacked us. We finally subdued her enough to wake her up and she fell into a ball and cried, then you showed up." Larcien explained Hallon still too exhausted to speak; she had fought harder than any blood elf he had come across.

…

She felt their approach, knew more than Galadriel had come, she did not care, and she was past caring. She felt his presence, needed it. She was losing her mind, her body all over again.

Some knelt near her, she felt their heat and breath, "Túrante," Galadriel spoke, "Can you hear me?"

She could but did not trust her voice. She held out her hand, willing with her whole soul it was Legolas who grabbed it. "Please." She tried to croak out, not know if she was heard, when a hand grabbed hers. The warmth was muted, but it was him. She all but flung herself to him and sobbed more.

Many were confused by the action, but said nothing.

His voice was soft and soothing, whispering in her ear, "What happened?" he spoke Quenya, her native tongue, but she did not make out the rest of what he said but tried to answer, she had to answer.

"I remembered, relived being tortured. How I was turned. Was with him…Melkor…Angband." She could get out no more. She just clung to him and let the pain and sorrow and fear of all the ages leave her.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

She woke up in a tent, alone. Panic seized her for a moment and she froze. She closed her eyes, ordering herself to breath; everything was okay and the dream had passed. Voices, muffled by distance reached her ears, and she made out her group of friends.

A breeze ruffled though the flap, and gaining her attention Túrante noted the stack of clothes laid out for her, making her realized her tattered clothes were hardly covering her. A blush threatened to flash on her cheeks, if it were possible. The company had seen much more of her than she was happy to admit, however, there was nothing to do about that now. She gathered the clothes and quickly changed.

Stepping out from the tent, she walked quickly and silently to the creek that was flowing nearby. Explanations would have to come soon, but first she needed to be alone, to ease her mind and body. So much had occurred in the past few hours and had her emotions in turmoil. After her actions tonight, she knew that everyone gathered would have to be informed of hr connection with Legolas, there was no hiding it now and it weighed heavy on her mind. She did not want something so private being publically known.

In the distance she heard them talking again, louder this time. They had found her gone.

"She is not here; I was not gone more than a few moments." Legolas said to the others.

So that is why she slept peacefully, he had been in the tent or right by it.

"She is not far, child, I expect she needed to clear her head." Galadriel's voice was soothing.

"That would be correct." Túrante spoke, walking into the small clearing. With the exception of Hallon and Larcien, they all startled at her voice. "Let us get this over with as painless as possible, were do we begin?"

"At the beginning," Galadriel offered, "with your vision."

"Very well," She sat on a nearby log, pondering her next words carefully.

"From the moment I was captured and turned, I never remember what happened. I was an elf one minute, then the next a vampire. I would have dreams, but they always ended as soon I was taken. Until tonight."

"what made tonight different?" Gandalf asked, leaning forward against his staff.

"She has not slept in days, I presume." Larcien answered. "Whilst at home, during her arrival, none of us did, and she was already weary, it was present on her face. And neither did she last night, am I correct?"

Túrante gave her a hard stare but answered, "Aye, that would be correct, exhaustion must have played a key part, or help from Eglanon, or both, I cannot be sure." She paused here before continuing.

"As of late, I have been getting more and more flashbacks as I sleep and sleep comes difficult these days."

"I do not understand, even with so much going on, our kind does not exhaust so." Hallon said confused.

"We do when poisoned it seems. Eglanon shot me with a tainted arrow in Rohan. It stripped me of my powers gifted by the valor, Elrond healed me but it came with a price." She pulled down the shoulder of her gown and exposed the scar, still purple. "I no longer heal as I should; it is accelerated but greatly diminished." She watched the men glace at each other, knowing what they were thinking.

Aragorn spoke first, "What about Legolas, we saw what happened each time." Now the others looked confused as well.

She sighed, "Galadriel, this is what I had hoped to speak with you about, now is as good a time as any, I cannot keep it hid much longer." She looked at Gandalf, "I suspect you have some idea as to what I infer?"

"Aye, it has been brought up."

She nodded. "I knew of the stirrings when the wraiths were sent out to find the ring. I felt their presence. I followed as far as the Shire, though I only had a guess to reason they had been sent forth. I kept my distance, their presence always put me on edge, but curiosity always did get the better of me." She stopped at Galadriel's snort of laughter before continuing. "I felt drawn towards Rivendell after a short time, and gave in; not seeing what harm could come of it as I could be in and out without so much as a whisper. There was a part of me that thought it was thing ring, I knew it was there, but it sickened me to be near it. I realized then it was a person, not an object that drew me there. It was a sense of peace to best put it, something I had not felt in a long time. The rest of my interventions from there you all know of by now."

They nodded, Legolas remaining silent. Gandalf spoke, his voice soft, "The person you were drawn to it was Legolas?"

"Aye, it was."

Eyes began darting around, looking between the two of them, none seeming sure of what to say.

"This connection, can you explain it more?" Galadriel asked of her, placing a warm hand on her arm.

"I do not myself understand it, it just felt that there was where I needed to be, there was a sort of calming in my soul. Following the fellowship started off on merely my selfish reasons of liking the feeling. Of course that changed over time, which is why I stopped them the night they were attacked by Eglanon's minions. Then things started to change"

"How so?"

"It was when Aragorn was attacked and bitten by a vampire." She stopped and gave a sharp look to Hallon and Larcien, silently telling them to do nothing, but she saw them tensing. "I had to suck out the poison or he would die and I gave Faramir a time frame for which to kill me, if I failed." She smiled at Faramir. "I almost did." She stopped and took in a deep breath here and Larcien took the chance to speak.

"How can that be? You are still here, you are…" she faltered here, not knowing what to say.

"Still in control?" Túrante put it, and Larcien nodded, "I never drank the blood, I spit it out once I could no longer taste the venom, but it brought the thirst back as it was when I was first created."

"Is it not always so?" Elrond asked, it was the first time he had spoken since they had started.

Larcien, eyes still boring into Túrante's answered him, "No. when we were first created the thirst was debilitating, and it was as if there was a fire always burning in the back of your throat, never ending. The first few hundred years are the worst. It takes all your body and minds control to rein it in and what is left of our elvish ways. This would also explain the exhaustion." Her voice was hard, she was mad at Túrante, but she said nothing after that.

"What change did it bring about? What was different with the connection?" Elrond then asked.

"The healing?" Faramir questioned, "Most of us have witnessed it."

The others all started chiming in, all the questions bogging her down. She held up a hand, and though it was not instant, the voice faded away, all except one.

"Afterwards, you fled. I found you on a nearby knoll, shaking. I remember turning you around. Your eyes were red, then all of sudden they were not. The look on your face, I cannot describe it, but you had all but screamed asking what I had done." He paused, "What changed?"

She pried her eyes from the ground, where they had been starring while Legolas talked. With a long sigh, she looked at him. "You took it away." No one noticed the single tear that slide down her cheek and she thanked the darkness for that.

Hallon and Larcien both sucked in an audible amount of air at her words.

"Took away what?"

"Everything. There was no burn, there was no need, no urge, and there was nothing anymore." Her voice was quite, but she knew they all heard her. She left out the fact that it was only when she was near him that it diminished and gone with his touch. If Legolas knew that, she did not know how he would feel, or what he would do. Some things could still be kept to herself.

Before they could ask her to elaborate she went on, "As some of the remaining fellowship has seen, whatever is there speeds my healing process. I do not understand it or know what it is before you have to ask."

"I think," Galadriel spoke, "That is enough for one night. We are all weary and need rest."

They must have all agreed, as they began to get up and brush themselves off to leave. Hallon and Larcien laid a hand on her shoulder before vanishing into the night to their tent. She sat back down on her log, facing the creek, she could barely see through the trees. She felt him leave, as the burning slowly came creeping back. Someone sat beside her, without speaking.

"It has been has been many a long nights since we have watched the stars."

"Aye, it has been my friend." She smiled at the elleth beside her.

They sat there through most of the night, not speaking, but simply enjoying the company of the other. She sun was just peaking over horizon when they stood to go into the city.

Túrante made a stop buy their camp, ordering some to sharpen and collect weapons, others to ready battle gear, and organize everything they had brought with them. With her she brought Hallon and Larcien to the city. Many things needed to be done and rebuilt, but she did not want to bring her people inside and cause more chaos then need be.

Faramir found her before she found Elrond. They were on the ground level, trying to clear away debris and see what could be salvaged. That level took the biggest hit.

"Where are the others?" she asked, moving large portion of stone Faramir was struggling with, getting a nasty but playful look.

"I would punch you for that, but I doubt it would hurt." He joked getting a laugh to escape her lips.

"No it would not, I am sorry."

"They, however, are somewhere. Gimli is probably trying to find Galadriel; he took a likening to her on our trip through Lothlorien. Last I saw Gandalf, he was in counsel with Elrond, Éomer is set to leave the healing wing in s few days," She felt a twinge of guilt, in the past days she had been so preoccupied with gathering her people and her our worries she had forgotten Éomer had been badly injured in the battle. "And Legolas was speaking to Aragorn about getting word to his father."

"Thranduil?"

"Aye, see if we can get the aide of his people as well. With many of the elves native to Rivendell hurt, there are not many left who can fight."

She nodded, knowing he was correct, they needed more aides. Humans however, would be easier to train; they were more forgiving and understanding than elves. They lived shorter lives, and valued their time much more. In this choice, though, she had no voice.

"He seems unhappy to do so."

"Oh?"

"It is just an assumption; he has been short tempered since Elrond asked him after the council meeting the other day." Faramir replied.

"I doubt any would want to put their people in such danger happily." She told him, gazing off to the upper levels, where he was…somewhere. That could explain his behavior of late, though she was sure there was more to it that a letter.

"Aye."

They worked in companionable silence, and got a good bit of work done; Hallon and Larcien had joined them. There was still a large mess, but the biggest rubble was moved to be examined by their craftsmen to see what they could make of it. She decided that she should pay a visit to Éomer in the healing wing. Her visit was way past due, and so she bade goodbye to her company and walked briskly away. Keeping busy was her priority now.


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The days seemed to be creeping by, although a week had passed since her nightmare in the woods. In that time frame, some of the training had been started with the elves that were able. The process was excruciatingly slow, they were reluctant to participate, whether from hate, fear, or disgust she did not know, it was a large mix of all.

Walking back from the training area that day, Túrante was seething inside, her people were not faring much better, and she, as their queen, should have remained to talk with them, however, she needed to get away, if only for a moment.

Mounting Suldal, she galloped out of Rivendell and out into the forest. Finding a nice clearing, she practiced moves from atop the horse's back. They had long been a pair and with just the slightest move she could communicate to him. Their moves were well rehearsed and almost dance like as they worked together.

In her mind, her thoughts wondered back to earlier that day, where she had finally lost her cool with the elves.

…

Even with the help of the company, Haldir, her old guards Amathon and Hebron, even Elrond's son, it was not going well. If they tried at all, it was with little effort; mostly they just acted defiant or scared.

"If this is all you can me and to Lord or lady, you may go ahead and sign your death warrant, and of everyone around you. I do not give an orc's arse if you despise my people or I, find us revolting, or are scared, you should be scared. This enemy will show no mercy to man, woman, or child, and here you sit like a stubborn child." Her voice reverberated around the training field, echoing off the trees and armor, and some actually seemed to have started paying attention. It did not matter to her now; she was going to prove a point.

"Take a quick vote, who is the best of your fighters here? Send him up and we shall see just how much he has learned. But think first, his performance reflects on all of you gathered."

They all started mumbling amongst themselves, arguing, until one steeped up on his own, a smirk of hatred smeared nastily across his face. She did not move as he approached. He was large built even for an elf, and judging by his hair he was of Lothlorien and his features spoke of such.

"My Lady Túrante…" he drawled in defiance.

"Silence!" She bellowed, causing him to take a quick step back. "Do not speak names, Eglanon's minions will not care, they only want your blood spilled and soaking this ground under your feet. I ask you not to hold back, attack me."

It was a simple command, and the ellon hesitated only a minute, but she saw the disgust pass through his eyes, his want to show her up, to boost his own already overfilled head, and he charged. He was in a swords width from her when she disappeared from his view, darting behind him, her own sword resting gently against the flesh of his neck.

"Poor choice of tactic," She removed the blade and turned him around, "Again."

And so it went on for roughly half of an hour before she called enough. "In this time, you have failed every timed to even lay a scratch on me. Had this been a real attack, and with the fighting he demonstrated on this group's behalf, everyone would be dead."

"Elrond put me in charge of your training, he did not, however, say who I had to train. So I say this now, and only once. Unless you are serious about this threat, about learning to defend yourselves, your families, your people, and your home, do not return to these training fields. I shall not waste my time or my people's, when so much is at stake and needing to be done."

Then she stalked off the field, her people following who had been present following at a safe distance, leaving the others staring after them.

…

Shaking herself from the memory, she pulled Suldal to a stop. She could hear hoof beats coming through the trees towards her and was surprised to Elrond before her, alone.

"Elrond," she nodded, knowing what he was here to discuss. Her actions on the field may have felt good, but were unnecessary and he was here to inform her of such. There would be no other reason to come alone.

"I shall call you Canye, however much you may dislike it, for you are bold, but also courageous and loyal. These qualities are what have kept you alive, kept you untainted, and kept your city thriving and people loyal." She wanted to protest, he could see that, and did not give her the chance. "I know of what partook on the trailing fields today, as you can assume many came to voice their…disapproval." And here he had to hold up a hand to stop her interruption. "I do not disagree with your actions, I know as an elf, we find change hard and slow coming. Some have more willingness than others. What you did today was needed, the unwilling will only slow the training for those who want to be a part of this, and we need them as trained as possible in the time given to us."

"I am not here for training though; I need to ask of you yet another favor. It is with a heavy heart, but a request I cannot overlook. Thranduil has agreed to send us aide, leaving his queen in rule in his stead, the elves of Mirkwood leave in a day's time to travel hither to Rivendell."

Her heart fell at the request he had not yet voiced, she knew what is was without the words, "You wish us to go offer protection on their journey."

"Yes, that is my request. Eglanon has had time to recoup from his attack here, and to brood over his defeat. I cannot risk losing more soldiers that we will need to overcome this threat."

"I understand." She replied, and it was true, she did. They would need the help, as Elrond was right about Eglanon, he would be angry and he would be ready for revenge. The houses of men, wanted to send for their own armies to join the cause, but many had disagreed. They had not enough to spare after the last war, many had been killed, and they needed to remain in their realms to protect should they be attacked. The elves were their only source of help in this fight.

"I will take a handful of my people to guard them, the others will remain here under you command. Hallon and Larcien will also remain behind in my absence Elrond. We will form a circle around the company, in secret; they will not know we are there."

"Thank you, Canye." He told her, his voice full of sadness, holding her hand in his. He let it go and with a nod, rode off toward Rivendell.

Túrante sat on Suldal in silence, thinking of her next move and how to tell her people.

Gathered in front of her people, she addressed them as their Queen, "My people, I know the time here as been short, and in that time you have faced more discrimination and unjust feelings and words than ever before. My warnings of are welcome were not enough and for that I am sorry. I now must ask even more from you in these dark times. Elrond wishes a party to set forth and set a guard around the elves traveling from Mirkwood" she heard the murmur growing in the crowd. "I must agree with him, as much as I hate putting this upon you. He made a point that we need all the help we can obtain, and is right. There has been ample time for Eglanon to regain his strength and anger to grow; we cannot lose more soldiers before the last battle. We must win this fight. And so I will choose my troop from those who willingly raise their hands and offer to go."

Once again her own people shocked her and she had to smile inwardly at herself before a man spoke up, "My lady, none have voice before but I shall do so now, We have awaited many years to be free of our restraints, too be rid of the darkness our fallen kind have caused. We will all do that is asked of you and the Elven lords if it means an end to this evil." After he finished a roar erupted through the crowd in agreement, and it was hard control her emotions, the loyalty and dedication of her people was stronger than even she had thought possible, and it brought Elrond's words from earlier back into her thoughts.

"I do not know how to reward such honor and loyalty from you, I hope that after this war has passed I can offer whatever reward you wish and grant it to. No King or Queen could be proud of their people than I at this very moment. It is a hard decision to decide who shall stay and who shall go, and there will be a few who do not understand." She said this as she looked at Hallon and Larcien, they would remain behind. And so she called the names of the men and women who would join her.

She could have stayed and sent the same people without a worry, but here her feelings were in turmoil. She had not spoken to Legolas in the past week. The most communication they shared was a nod of hello or goodbye; it ached in her heart, and angered her at the same time. She wanted to know why he acted as such and what was on his mind and yet, she was angry at herself for feeling like a love sick elfling. _Love? No, wrong use of words. _She thought, _it is the connection having me think as such. Has to be. _ And she shook herself back to the present.

"Those whose names were not called, I ask that you remain here under the command of Hallon and Larcien who will receive their orders from Elrond or Galadriel and train to the best of your ability the elves willing to learn what you have to offer. As for our traveling party, be gathered here at sunset, we shall travel through the night in all haste to Mirkwood."

Leaving the podium she awaited the onslaught from her two friends, and it came as quick as a typhoon from the ocean crashing upon the shore. Túrante could barely understand them as they ranted over the other, cutting one another off and yelling over the vice of each other.

"My friends!" Túrante hollered above them, gaining their attention. "I know you are unhappy with the choice I have made, and I am sorry, but it must be so. I need the ones I trust the most, here to look after the training." She gave them a sad smile.

"You do not have to go, the ones you sent out our some of our best." Larcien argued and Túrante sighed.

"Yes, I do. This week has been nothing short of torture to me, I wish not to be weak and run from it, but that is what I am doing. I have lost my cool once, and I cannot do so again in fear it may be worse. I need to get away, and this may be the only chance I have for a very long time coming." She informed them, a sadness washing over her as she voiced her feelings for the first time.

They understood her implication without hesitation; they had known her long enough to see the tension build when the elf prince came into her presence, and how they seemed to avoid each other. They did not know, however, how much she hurt until now.

Larcien pulled her into a hug, whispering her prayers and hope of a safe return into her ear, followed by Hallon. Laying a last hand on their shoulders, she said her goodbyes, and made her way to Rivendell to say the same to the fellowship.

She walked silently through the stone halls, towards the great hall, where the men should be gathered enjoying their dinner. The guards posted around had told her dinner was served an hour ago, and they did not remember seeing the company leaving. She had thanked them and continued on. The doors were open, elves packed the room, all talking and merrymaking, enjoying seeing their friends from Lothlorien. When she entered, a few stopped to star wonderingly at her, but the majority did their best to conceal their interest and resulted in trying to whisper to their companion about her. Which of course she heard, they seemed not to understand her hearing was more acute then theirs, she ignored them. She did not have a hard time finding the men, as Gimli practically assaulted her in his welcoming hug. She smelled him before he arrived, his smell was distinct from all the elves, rather than earthly, it was of stone, granite, quartz, limestone, and others. It was fitting.

"Well lass I did not expect to see you arrive tonight." He grumbled in a happy voice, clearly enjoying the elvish wine.

"Of course it is a nice surprise," Faramir said, smiling as he approached behind the dwarf.

"Always the charmer Faramir," She laughed, widening his grin. "I wish it was on such joyful circumstance, but I am here to say goodbye for a time."

"I do not understand?" The captain asked, smile fading quickly.

"I am taking a company to Mirkwood to protect the host coming to give us aide. Elrond and I feel it will be the perfect opportunity for Eglanon to strike. I must make sure they arrive unharmed."

"Have you no choice lassie? I might have to admit that I miss your company." Gimli frowned up at her.

She laughed in spite of herself, drawing more attention than she wished to herself, including Legolas' attention, however she acted to not notice. She did not let it ruin her moment, because for the first in more than a week, she found a genuine laugh on her lips, from a dwarf no less.

She patted him lightly on the back, and whispered softly to him, "Good, for I may miss you as well master dwarf!" receiving a hardy rumbling laugh in return, she looked at Faramir and smiled at her new friend.

"You better come back unscathed, I still owe you a life saving, so do not forget it" he smiled as he said it, but saw the seriousness underneath it.

"I give you my word; I shall wait to be harmed whilst near your presence, just for the chance!" She replied dramatically, a hand clasping her heart.

They joined her to where Aragorn, Gandalf, and Éomer were seated in discussion. Legolas she noted was within earshot but talking with Haldir. Ignoring the princeling, she addressed the group before her, "I wanted to come wish you all farewell before I depart this sunset."

"Leaving? For what purpose?" Aragorn asked, standing and the others following suit.

"I am to travel to Mirkwood, to offer protection to King Thranduil and his men who journey here." She replied, catching out of the corner of her eye Legolas sending a sharp glance her way, she once again acted oblivious.

"Has something happened? Some news of Eglanon's plans?" Éomer asked, concern for his people obvious in his voice.

"Nay my friend, just precautions, we cannot lose more soldiers. I have scouts coming and going keeping an eye on his biddings, and nothing so far has turned up that offered much promise." She reassured the young king. "I am glad to see you out of the healing wing, even if on the night of my leaving. " She joked with him.

"Keep safe, and come back." Aragorn commanded her, while bringing her into a tight embrace that the others joined in on.

Laughing Túrante struggled to surface from the onslaught of men, "okay okay, promise! But I need air," she sputtered out between gasps and laughing.

"Just remember, you promised." Gimli said reinforcing Aragorn's previous statement.

"Always." She smiled at the group, her new friends that were like another family to her now, before turning and walking away.

"_Stay safe Mellon nin." _ The strong feminine voice echoed in her head, and she turned looking to Galadriel, and smiled again to another friend that was more like family than anything else.

Her gaze shifted to Legolas as she began to leave again, her smile faded. They held each other's gaze only a brief moment but when she saw him make no move, she understood things would not be how they use to be, and it was for the best she thought. She broke his hold and strode out into the sunset where her people were waiting.

She gave a quick layout of their plans and formation before they took off, and running into the cool night air, she let all thoughts float from her mind. Now it was only her, her people and their task until they returned.

…

They had made it Mirkwood without problem, traveling in pairs of two and using all the stealth they had mastered over the ages. Thranduil had only been out of Mirkwood a few hours when they caught sight, still well out of the detection of the elves. They were still in the shelter of the forest that in itself was dangerous. They made a perimeter around the large host, still in pairs; no one was to travel alone. They were to go to hiding place to hiding place, surveying the area, and reporting to the others through signals, much like bird sounds.

Túrante estimated their journey would take roughly a fortnight if they traveled fast and with limited breaks, and so far they had done just, it helped keep any threat of attack smaller as well.

Everything had remained quite more the first half of the journey and Thranduil remained oblivious to their presence, but it unnerved her that there was no sign of the enemy. She had felt certain he would strike, even if he knew they were guarding the elves, which he more than likely did. They could hide well, but it was hard to travel in secrecy from two parties on either side.

When they were four days outside of Rivendell, Thranduil and his company had just entered a narrow mountain pass, and Túrante's senses went on high alert. She was with her partner, a older vampire, she had known a long age, they were in a large clearing, taking shelter by a lone stone, when the call sounded. It was shrill whistle, coming from the North West. They had come, and approaching fast. Signaling her partner, they quickly flew to the spot the call resounded from and found two of the company.

"How close and how many?" she asked quickly, surveying the area.

"The next pair spotted them, a large number; they almost double our own numbers. They will be here soon." She answered, anger lace din her words.

"Save your anger for them Alpheth, gather the pairs on your side, I will get the others. We will block the entrance to that path at all cost, none can get by use, do you understand?"

"Yes, Túrante." She nodded and went forth to gather the rest.

They waited in complete silence. Her party of only fifty vampires, lines the pass from the top of the hill to the bottom, nerves pulled to their breaking point, when the signal ran through the still air. They had been spotted, and lucked out that they were more than half a day behind the soldiers; no noise should reach their ears at that distance.

The oncoming vampires made it almost to the pass when they ambushed them. Some were on the ground in hand to hand, others in sky. It was chaos, everywhere she looked, and there was blood and death.

She took out one after the other, focusing only on the battle at hand, nothing else mattered. Their skills were varied, some were very young and inexperienced, and others had years of training and those targeting her best warriors. Túrante watched as one of her own was struck down, head falling from her body. In a rage she went after minion of Eglanon, teeth and claws barred. From his skill, it was easy to discern he lead the party, if she could kill him, the remaining would flee, or so was the hope.

He fought hard, but she matched every blow he tried to land. On and on it their dance of malice filled the air, they circled each other and he went for another blow, which she parried and swung around bring down a strike of her own.

What seemed like an eternity had passed, he made a mistake, he brought his sword down just inches to low and she took her chance, and with a mighty swing, felt her blade rip through his flesh, his face frozen in shock as it slide from his shoulders and falling ahead of his body to the ground. It landed with a loud rumble and the enemy seemed to know what happened, and also froze. With expression of horror they took off back towards Angband.

"Catch them!" she ordered and they all took off after them.

It did not take long to run them down, they were tired, and her people were trained to withstand much. They made sure to leave none alive to return to Eglanon. Túrante stood a moment, alone in the middle of the dead bodies and faced the North West where somewhere her brother was waiting on the return of his men that would not come. She stood there in defiance and in victory, before walking away.

Walking back was a solemn trip; they gathered their dead and made a pile to burn. There was no time for burial rites in war. They all stood around the blazing fire that burned a dark blue into the night sky as far as they could see. Never before had they witnessed a fire as such, it could be seen for many miles and in Rivendell, the company looked to the sky, seeing the pale blue in distance, looked on with curiosity.

"Wonder what that could be?" Gimli asked.

"It flickers as a fire, but it is not of the right hue." Legolas answered straining his eyes to see more clearly.

"Yes it is a fire," Gandalf said, joining them on the balcony after dinner.

"Of what source? Never has such a fire graced my eyes." Legolas replied.

"Nor mine." Aragorn agreed.

"It is a fire burned for the dead. I sense Thranduil's arrival will be soon and with safety, but it has come at cost. Our friends have lost some of their own." Galadriel spoke from behind them, sadness lined in her features. And the others turning from her face, looked again to the fire, all curiosity gone and worry in its place. They looked to where in the clearing Túrante and her people mourned the death of their family.

They were all tired, even if they would not admit such, and Túrante sent a plea to her horse Suldal, hoping he would somehow hear it and answer, but they could not wait for long, and soon were on the road again, in pairs of two trailing behind the host of elves.

They had not stopped to rest, and made good time catching up to the company, but it took its toll, especially on Túrante, she ached all over, cursing Eglanon for his poisoned arrow, she feared her body would never be quite the same. Being weak was not a trait she had become accustomed to, even in the past few months. And then her spirits were lifted. News of Thranduil crossing into Rivendell's borders reached her ears and she called her party together. With only a day's travel left to them, she asked what they would prefer to do, rest, or continue on.

"We shall rest, if that pleases you my queen. They will be safe in the borders, the rest of our people will see to that. Let them have their party for arrival. We all need rest." The man spoke.

"Very well, we rest here tonight. Just to stay vigilant we shall have a watch. Now go sleep, I take first watch." She instructed them and none seemed to mind, or question. She did not want to sleep so far from Legolas, or anyone who knew of her nightmare, in case it occurred out here in the wilderness.

So she sat all night, mind wondering, only then realizing she scuffed up from the battle. She had a nice gash on her upper arm, and many smaller ones scattered over her body. Bruises and dried blood caked her whole body, and looking around, her party feared much the same, only their cuts were long gone, only the blood remained to show proof of the injuries.

Only 30 of her company remained after the fight, 20 had been killed, and even though it was a high price to pay, they killed many more. The whole host of the enemy was destroyed.

Then there was Legolas, but no, she could not think of him now or their situation, if it could even be called that. _No, _she scolded herself, _there is no situation. What happened between us before was an accident and it meant nothing. _She tried to tell herself. _If things were anything other than what they are we would be on speaking terms, not this awkward silence. That proves there is nothing. It is better this way. _She said the last part to herself with as much conviction as possible, and held onto that as she continued her watch throughout the night, pushing thought of the blond elf to the back of her mind.

She turned to the sound of hooves in the distance and took to the air to see the host responsible and smiled. It was Suldal and the rest of the party's horses, all galloping to their campsite as a herd. Somehow they had managed to get her call and answered.

Túrante woke the group and told them of the arrival of the horses, they seemed happy to see their animal friends after the loss of their comrades. When the horses arrived, the ones whose riders' were no more were set free to live how they pleased and roam were their heart's desired.

Ridding into Rivendell, she heard her people's horn call, followed by that of Elrond's which surprised her a little, it was not expected that he treat their arrival as that of friends, but he had and she was thankful and it warmed her heart that was downcast and dampened as of late.

They reined to a stop outside the walls, where Elrond, his family, the company, Galadriel and her select people and Thranduil with his son stood, Larcien and Hallon where to the side, near Gimli. From the look on their faces, she could tell they look worse for wear. The Elven lords, minus Thranduil who looked on at them with an unreadable expression, raised their hand in greeting and she followed suit with a slight bow of her head.

"The host of the enemy is destroyed Elrond, for now, Rivendell and the occupants are safe." She informed him, weariness taking its toll, she just wanted to get the talking over with and sleep for days, which she knew could not happen.

"You have all of the gratitude I can offer, which is not enough for the loss of you people, and for that I am sorry." He voice relayed the truth in the sorrow he felt for them.

"Thank you, but I fear we all shall face more before the end, such is the cost of war." She looked straight at him and nodded again dismissing them from their presence, "We shall ask your leave, to rest, we are all weary."

"Take as much time as needed, Canye. We shall speak soon."

Releasing the tension in her body, she dismounted and began to walk towards her camp, when a body blocked her path. Irritation spread through her body, before she looked up into the blue eyes of an elf prince and all thoughts and words left her.


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Taken by surprise for a moment, all Túrante could do was to stare into his eyes, lost in his expression she could not read. If she did not know better, she might have guessed relief, her heart fluttered at the thought, but no, she knew it could not be so. The past few days before her departure said otherwise. Getting false hopes over an impossible fate was dangerous.

Focusing back on reality, she caught the movement of his hand reaching towards her face. She closed her eyes and with a heavy heart she stepped away, stopping his movements. The hurt expression that flashed across his face did not go unnoticed, but she could not think of that. Things would be easier if they just accepted the truth, they shared some sort of connection, that was all, nothing more would come of it, and if it was no there, they would not be drawn to each other. Túrante was jolted when he reached for her arm, attempting to bring her back to him.

"What are you doing?" she hissed quietly, ignoring the slice on her arm healing at his touch, glad it was hidden under her sleeve so others could not see. Her eyes were glancing around the people gathered before landing on Thranduil. His eyes were cold and bored into her own, but she did not move, and she watched as he turned to the elf beside him and whispered a message, one she heard with perfect clarity. He wanted his servant to come remove his son from the presence of that, "thing". A few elves near him heard, and snickered.

She felt her whole body tense, many things her and her people had been called, but never a thing. Granted not all the names were pleasant, many were not, but they were always related to people, a living breathing person. But a thing? No, never. A thing implied an object, something dead, something without thought, feelings—the statement struck deep.

She was beyond angered, Túrante did not have a word for it, and she abruptly stopped Legolas' coming reply with one of her own, "You are being summoned away from the presence of such 'things' as myself.

Her eyes never left the King of Mirkwood's, she was the slight shock glide across his otherwise static features, when he realized she had heard his former statement. Legolas turned towards her gaze and she felt him tense and watched his father do the same, "I take my leave prince."

She pulled her arm free of his grasp and walked over to where the rest of the company had gathered, and they greeted her warmly and with many embraces and pats of encouragement.

"Well I see you saved most of yourself for me to save." Faramir joked, placing an arm across her shoulders.

"Aye, I could not break such a promise to you dear Faramir," she laughed and turned towards Éomer.

"I am glad to see you well enough and walking about."

"Thank you, it is a great feeling being out of that healing wing."

She was about to as Gandalf a question, when a flash of anger shot through her mind. The anger was not her own. She turned and scanned the crowd; it did not take long to find the source. Legolas was in a heated debate with his father, whatever he was saying was not pleasing the king and the others close at hand were wide eyed. Túrante willed herself not to focus in, not wanting to hear their words, and it was a hard thing to do as they were still well within her earshot.

"All does not seem to bode well over there," Gimli's gruff voice spoke as he stepped up beside her.

"They have clashed ways for many an age. They both mean well and are kind, but both are stubborn and protective of their own." Aragorn replied.

Túrante eyed him in question of his last statement, but only got a lopsided smile from the Gondorian King.

Túrante forced her eyes away from the scene before she was tempted anymore to listen in, and looked to Gandalf. "I have a favor to ask of you and Elrond."

"What might that be?"

"It is possible to have something that aides in…ah, sleep?" She did not like having to ask for help, and was embarrassed that she had to have it, but she also knew that in the past fortnight and some odd days, sleep had been close to impossible, she was exhausted and having another vision was not an option, neither was being close to a certain elf prince.

"I would believe that can be arranged, I shall speak with Elrond on it." An understanding smile appeared across his face.

"Thank you, how have things faired here in my absence?"

"Training has improved, the numbers of course are lessened, but the ones there work hard. Hallon and Larcien started them in endurance and strength training for most of the day then actual training and sparring in the evening. There are a few more developments, but I will Hallon and Larcien to fill you in on those, it is more…their business." Aragorn told her, clapping her shoulder, a strange twinkle in his eye.

The others followed suit, leaving her free to find her other two friends, they were not far off, standing near the group of people who had returned with her. They smiled warmly at her in greeting.

"What is going on?"

They may have been smiling, but there was something about their posture, something was off. It was like a mix of nerves and excitement too. They looked at each other and Hallon stepped forward, taking her hand. "There is someone I want you to meet."

"I do not understand." They knew all their people, they were a small group, and she did not need an introduction. Training might be going well, yet it was hard to imagine they had formed a friendship with one of the elves so quickly. She decided, however, to follow without question, not wanting to ruin Hallon's excitement.

They made their way to the mid level where most of the elves lived that were not of nobility or soldiers. After coming around a corner, a small group of elves were gathered outside. Túrante got a quick sense she had been there before. There was a small balcony that wrap around the outer rim of the corridor, some places still damaged from the battle.

'_The boy,' _she thought, this was the place she saved the young elfling, '_what are we doing here?'_

They stopped, and Hallon lead her up to an elleth, one who had seen many years and changes and pain in her time, her eyes spoke more than words ever could, and they still held great joy. She held a striking resemblance to her second in command, but she did not recognize her.

"Túrante, I would like to introduce you to my mother."

She felt her mouth drop open as looked upon them in bafflement, "Your mother? Forgive me, but I believed you to be or Cirdan's people?" Her mind was whirling at full capacity and she was still having trouble comprehending what was taking place.

The elleth spoke and Túrante took her again, "After we lost Hallon my husband and myself, went looking for our son. We could not bear the pain of doing nothing. We traveled to each Elven realms, some even twice but to no avail. Then I conceived my daughter, and we stayed here in Rivendell."

The woman she drew up beside her held a small child. Very young, and the same child she saved, she would never forget his face or the mothers. Túrante's breath hitched when she realized what she was about to be told.

"You have already met Hallon's sister and son." She spoke softly, tears filling her eyes. "You have saved my family more than once and there is nothing I can do to repay you."

"You owe me nothing," Túrante replied, placing a hand on her arm, not sure what to do.

"My lady, you have saved my only grandchild, kept my son alive and brought him back to me. I owe you everything." The tears were flowing freely now, "I want you to come to dinner tonight, it will not be much, but it is all I can give you in return."

"I would be honored." She smiled at the old elf in front of her.

Larcien and Túrante took their leave shortly after, making their way back to their campsite. Hallon remained behind with his newly found family.

"Of all the possibilities that could have occurred, that I tried to prepare for, this was never one of them. How could I have let something so important slip right over my mind?"

Larcien looked at her friend and her queen, "I believe, we all had more on our minds than our old families. Túrante it has been many ages since we were with them, we all worked hard not to remember."

"You are right, though I cannot help but feel I should have been able to prepare our people for such an outcome in some way Larcien."

"Do not dwell on it, for I believe no amount of warnings or preparation could have prepared us."

Túrante smiled at her friend, grateful for her confidence and support, but the guilt was still there, as she buried it deep to put away for another time. More than fifteen of her people had found family either in Rivendell or the elves from the other realms and not all had received such a welcome as Hallon.

Back in her tent Larcien taunted her old friend relentlessly, "You better be glad I come prepared," she said rummaging through her baggage.

"Just give me a cursed dress already," she sighed, not enjoying her friend's antics. Dresses were not something she was accustomed to wearing; traveling across country did not mix well with them.

"Cheer up, dressing nice for once will not kill you. Besides, I am as nervous as you are."

"Who said anything about being nervous?" she scoffed, not trying to hide her mock abashment.

Her friend laughed, "It will be strange, will it not? We have been together a long time, Hallon and I, but until now I never had to worry about making an impression on his family, it was only him, and now within just a few days I confronted not just with parents but a sister, brother in law, and child."

"I have an idea she will not be hard to please, as long as Hallon is happy. You make him happy Larcien." She smiled as she said it, for it was true, but there was a pang in her heart all the same. She had to press it down, that path was not for her.

"Oh here! This shall be perfect!" her voice jolting Túrante from her troubling thoughts and she turned her eyes to the gold dress Larcien held out to her.

"It boggles my brain you can pack so much. It is ridiculous you know that?"

"You are in no place to chastise my packing, when you have to borrow my clothes!"

Without a retort she just shrugged her shoulders laughing, before tackling the task of getting herself ready.

They walked quickly and silently through the halls of Rivendell making their way to the home oh Hallon's family. Túrante took a deep breath of air before rapping the large oak door swiftly and efficiently. She heard voices inside and the shuffling of feet as someone walked to the door.

An ellon they did not know answered the door, "Welcome," he smiled, "You must be the lady Larcien and Queen Túrante, please come in." he offered an outstretched and introduced himself as Dammor, Hallon's father.

"It is just Túrante and Larcien to you all, if you please," Túrante asked of him, she wished to try to make them all as comfortable as could be possible, using formalities only added pressure.

"Of course," he smiled and led them into his home.

"Oh good, you have been able to make it, I am so please. It is not much, but this is our home." Hallon's mother, Ephedril greeted them.

"Nonsense, it is a lovely home." Larcien argued agreeably.

"Many a thanks my dear, Hallon is in the kitchen, if you follow me, I will show you." Her small frame bustled through a little hallway and opened into a large open space that held the kitchen, dining area, and gathering space. The closed room at the front hall she assumed where he bedrooms.

Hallon's face lit up brighter than before at the entrance, if it was possible, and Túrante doubted it could and smiled. He stood from the table where he was seated and hugged them both, placing a kiss on her cheek before landing his lips on Larcien's.

"We have only been apart a few hours, what brought such a special greeting?" Túrante jested lovingly.

"Well first off, my love here always gets such a greeting. As for you," he paused with a mischievous grin flashing upon his faces, "You have been somehow tricked into one of Larcien's dresses, and shockingly look as a woman! I could not resist such beauty!"

When he finished, Larcien was beside herself with laughter, and the others at first seemed to be in a state of uncertainty on whether to laugh or be appalled, until Túrante also laughed.

She pulled away, and pointed at him, "I shall remember that in training tomorrow my friend." But Hallon was right; she rarely dressed up for any occasion, there was never much of a need to.

"Oh no worries, I will when I am kicking your…"

"Hallon! Rear end better be the word you were about to say, there are children in this household!" Ephedril scolded, never turning from the stove she was slaving over, and this time everyone around did laugh. "Some things have not changed one bit, such as your manner!"

Túrante turned, hearing small feet approaching her, and saw the young child she save gazing up at her, eyes inquisitive and full of questions, but he did not say a word. She looked to the sitting room where his parents were seated watching intently. She silently asked the mother for permission to speak to the child and she nodded her approval, though she noted she hesitated.

She walked closer to the living area, trying to give the parents some ease and the child followed and she knelt down to face him.

"You are the one who helped me." He stated, voice small and squeaky but not scared, no, he was confident in his speech.

"I am."

"You are different than us." His question more of a statement he wanted verified.

"No, I am not like you little one."

"Are you bad? I heard other elves say you were." It was such a simple question, one only a child would ask.

She would not lie to the boy though, "I can be." It was a simple answer to a simple question and it was the truth. If the need arose she could do bad things, she could kill. The child sat there a moment pondering her response.

"I do not think so."

"Think what? Túrante asked him before he walked away.

"That you are bad, bad people don't help others."

She smiled after him, looking at his parents, "If only things were ever as simple as that as the mind of a child. You have done well with him."

"Thank you," Erthil replied.

Dinner had gone smoothly, much better than she had anticipated. After a time, everyone loosened up in the company of the other. None of them was used to interactions with each other. They spoke of simple things, There city Calithil, their culture and livelihood, and of travels. All the darkness surrounding them was forgotten for a short time. For Túrante it had been a nice getaway from the toils of war and politics.

Larcien would kill her if she knew she sat upon the bear ground in her dress, while she spoke to Galadriel, but did not care. The night was cool and the stares unveiled, a small breeze whispered through the trees. Looking to her left she saw Galadriel doing the same as she, simply enjoying what the night had to offer.

"I had planned a visit to come see you in Lothlorien."

"And you never did."

"It was when the company arrived near Edoras, when the connection really starting affecting me. However, the men had other ideas about travel, I could not leave them unattended." She stared into the distance.

"It frightens you." Galadriel stated, turning to look at her.

Had anyone else said she would have balked but the elf beside her knew her better than any, between them, they had no secrets.

"Yes. At first it was just something that slightly put me at ease. Now, it is consuming my being, affects every part of me. I do not want to be scared, but nothing can ever come of this, not with what I am, so what happens when this war is over, what happens when we part forever?"

"Now I think, it is too early to dwell on such matters Canyë," Galadriel was the only one who had never called her otherwise, the only one who did so that it did not bother her. "Now all out time and focus should be Eglanon, what becomes between you and the prince of Mirkwood will reveal its self and be sorted out after this is over."

"There will be nothing to come of it."

"That is not you decision alone to make." Her voice was not commanding but it the firmness of the Lady of the Wood coming out.

"Anything he feels, is the connection between us, nothing more. The feeling is compelling." Galadriel was suppose to make her feel better, not question the decisions she had already made.

"And you are different?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said, his feelings are only from the connection, you never said your feelings were." Galadriel informed her, catching her mistake and smiling.

She wanted to have a smart witty comeback, to tell her she was wrong because if that was true it would make life simpler, easier. If the feelings were only from the connection she could ignore them, pull away. But it was more but she did not want to admit that just yet, so she kept her mouth shut.

She felt his presence and heard his approach long before Galadriel did, but she did not say anything until he was close upon them; she wanted to take in the last restful view of the stars before she had to face the elf prince. She had tried to avoid him, and had done a good job, until now when he came looking for her.

"We have company; I believe I will take my leave, goodnight my friend." Túrante told Galadriel and they both stood up.

"Goodnight Canyë." She turned and walked off.

Túrante stood where she was, looking as Legolas made his way to her.

"I have a package from Gandalf." His voice seemed strained as if he didn't know what to say to her.

…

He walked away from Gandalf, carrying the package of what he guessed as some sort of herbal remedy for sleep by the smell.

He did not know why he volunteered to take it. He had been ignoring her before she left to protect his people, angry with his father more so than with her. Then he about kissed her in public until she pulled away. What emotions her eyes could have revealed were hidden. Then his father's statements about Canyë, had led to a public fight in front of many listening ears.

He loved his father, but they were both stubborn and clashed often and terribly when they did. He wanted to make him understand but how could he do that when he did not himself?

She had not come to him, he did not expect her to, but there had been a small hope. He told himself he would not bother her, that he would leave things alone. It was for the best was it not? What could become of them? His people would never be truly accepting…_'I am honestly thinking of this?' _he asked shaking the thoughts from his head. He was going to continue to keep a distance, it had been working, expect he found himself walking through the blood elves campsite receiving inquisitive stares but none hindered him, until he finally asked where he might find her.

She was where one said, on a small knoll in a clearing sitting with the Lady Galadriel. By the time he made it there they were parting ways and she just stood and waited. The wind was rippling through her hair that was unbound and in a gold dress that hung loosely against her body, her pale skin golden eyes and red lips setting the picture. It was perfection, it was beauty, and his heart rose into his throat, all thought gone.

When he stood before her it was all he could do to inform her of the package, it was his plan to then turn and leave, and it did not happen.

"Thank you."

"It was my duty to protect them; you do not have to thank me."

She assumed he meant his thank you for keeping his people safe, and at first that is how he meant it, but now he realized he was thanking her for coming back, for coming back safe.

"I was not thanking you for that." His voice grew soft and he saw the confusion register across her face.

"Than for what?" she silently thought it was for ignoring him, hoping that is what it was so her job was easier, but he crushed that.

"Thank you for coming back to me." had he really just said that? That thought was supposed to stay in his head for only himself, what was wrong with him, this could not work, it was too complicated, too many differences, and yet he could not stop. He did not want to.

Her whole demeanor changed at his words, he watched her shift back, and tense more, her eyes grew large, but in them her saw an emotion he could not quite place. It was like something had opened inside and he saw all the pain and history flash through them, but one thing stayed, one certain look he did not understand.

…

She felt her heart almost break. Those words, like the child's so simple, but filled with so much meaning. How could he say such things to her, and mean them. She was supposed to disgust him.

"Do not say such things. We need not fool ourselves." She whispered, but she knew he heard.

"I am not. You will not need this to help you sleep tonight."

"This cannot be, it is not feasible Legolas. We come from too different a past. The only thing you feel is the connection and I will not have you waste your time or mine on such." Her voice lost its softness now, she wanted him to see her reason, it would only bring trouble and pain to them both in the end.

However, she watched as his own anger boiled, "You think I do this lightly? That I have not given it thought? If so you are not as smart as I gave you credit for. Connection or not, whatever is between us would remain. The things I do I do because I want to and based on my own feelings. I just did not tell you." His voice was raised and he closed the distance between them, finger in her face. She did not move, she just listened to him wide eyed. "You insult us both, thinking I do everything I have out of duty and obligation alone. If you had bothered to try and speak with me on it, things may have been different, but you would not."

She still remained silent, wanting him to get madder, this way he would leave her alone, eventually forget her, and she could be away from him and free from the longing of him. It was hurting inside to do so, but she had to, it is like Galadriel said, she needed to focus on here and now.

"You may need this tonight after all." He tossed her the package, and turned to walk away.

She spoke one last time, just barely audible, "It is better this way."

She watch him stop and turn, and he gave her a calculating look, "You did this on purpose, you meant to push me away."

She just looked at him, he was not supposed to have heard her, and she cursed silently to herself when he smiled and walked back over.

"In that case, kiss me."

"What?" she was dumbfounded.

"Look at me and be honest and tell me you do not feel something."

She did not answer for a long time; she should be smart and walk away. Say she feels nothing and keep going, so why was she not doing just that? Why was she still here staying into his blue orbs, lost.

"I cannot." She looked away from him, but could feel his smile none the less. But she would not kiss him, she would not take it that far, she just could not, her guilt was too much. She was not elf kind anymore, she could not bring him happiness in the long run.

He lifted her chin and she braced for the touch of his lips on her own, surprised she was excited for it, that she had missed it. It made her angry she had let this happen, all on that one fateful night. However, it never happened, instead he laid them gently on her forehead.

"I am sorry your plan did not work." He smiled and walked away, leaving her with nothing but the night and the package to help her sleep.


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"How did you come by these?" Elrond asked, running a hand over the maps.

All the lords and Túrante had been gathered to have a meeting to discuss the plans for their plan of attack and strategy. She had a plan formulating in her mind, one she did not think they would be all too pleased with.

"Memories, master Elrond, memories." She had spent the past few sleepless night drawing maps of the fortress in Angband. She did not want to draw them; it meant reliving the worst of her nightmares, yet she had no choice. Often tears slipped down her pale cheeks in remembrance.

Túrante started with the upper levels of the Iron prison, the common tongue name for the realm, they were the simplest in design. The lower levels and dungeons were a complex maze of tunnels and passageways.

"We cannot hope to beat Eglanon in open war, even with our numbers and the training, in the open we are weak and vulnerable with their ability of flight." She told them, studying the maps still more as she spoke.

"We have your people to help with that do we not?" Éomer asked her.

"We are only 300 hundred strong Éomer; we could hold them at bay only a little while before we would all be destroyed. We are not invincible." Túrante replied, not hostility but with a sharp edge in her tone. She needed them to understand the dire situation of open war with vampires. "The elves could not hope to last much longer than us in open war, the numbers are not enough against the unknown forces the enemy has mustered."

"So what then do you propose we do? There are not many options left to us." Aragorn spoke up, frustration written all over his face.

"Simple, we infiltrate Angband." was her simple response, eliciting utter silence from the ones gathered.

"You would send us purposefully to our death!" raged the king of Mirkwood.

Her anger boiled under the surface, as she struggled to keep it in check. She lifted her piercing gaze upon the elf lord, eyes pure flame. "If my purpose was your death, My Lord, no one would be standing here alive." She growled, before she felt a hand rest gently on her arm. She knew from the scent it was Faramir, he was the closest to her. He had become one of her closest companions as of late, and she knew he was trying to calm her down. Never letting her gaze leave the elf lord, she watched him suck in a breath and attempted to ease her tenseness. She was about to speak again before Gandalf took the opportunity to step in.

"How do you suppose we do this? He will have scouts."

"Travel separately, in small groups of no more than 20 with two of my people as guides and guards per group. The smaller the number the less of a threat it shall be, and the less chance of being noticed."

"That is all well and good, however, you know the mountains that surround that barren land and above the lands of everlasting cold. This is no easy feat even for the elves." Elrond spoke, gaining nods from some.

"There is a secret path, much like the one we have made in the Blue Mountains. We constructed it before our rebellion against Melkor," She watched the elves shudder at his name, but continued on, "It was our backup plan of escape if the battle went wrong, in hopes some of were able to survive."

"Eglanon was with you during those times, he would know of its existence."

"Yes, but not its location. The entrance was known only to a few, the oldest of us, for safe keeping. Even though we all wanted freedom, there were some I knew were weak, they would be easily corrupted or bribed by the vampires loyal to Melkor or by Melkor himself. Eglanon was newly created, the transformation changed him, I feared he may not be strong enough and so I never told him."

"Well there is a small ray of hope," Gimli grumbled, and Túrante had to hold back a smirk.

She pulled up another map, one with the path they would take marked. She struggled with the idea of mapping it out for them, but she had to show she had some trust in them, which she did, though little rested on the father of Legolas. "This is the path; it makes a wide birth around the fortress, to its back gates, where it then travels underground. The entrance is in the basement levels, the dungeons."

The men gathered closer around, all but smashing her against the table, personal space forgotten.

"You would lead us the dungeons, where we could easily be snared and locked up?" Lord Thranduil snarled, his distaste of her laced within his voice.

"I lead you to the dungeons, because it is where we were held during our punishment for not taking blood of another, it is the deepest part of the castle, the least guarded because of its superior strength and construction. Even my race cannot break the bars that create the cells, it does not need guarding. It is the safest place to enter in the whole kingdom."

It seemed no one had room to argue with her after that, the tenseness radiated off her body in rolling waves. Writing out the paths and drawing the sketches was one thing, talking about the dungeons that often nights tormented her dreams was another.

It was Legolas who finally spoke up, jolting her, "Is this the only way?"

"Yes."

"What are the decisions of the kings?" Gandalf then asked after more agonizing moments of deafening silence.

"We are with you," Aragorn spoke up, speaking for himself, Faramir, Gimli, and Éomer.

"Legolas?" Gandalf asked.

"I am as well." He responded, Thranduil, jerking his head towards his son.

"King Thranduil? What say you?"

The woodland lord stood in silence a long time in thought. He did not want to take this path, or any path that the blood elf had chosen, yet his son had already allied himself with it. He rubbed an old hand down his beautifully un-aged face with a sigh. "We will follow the lord Elrond and Galadriel in whatever path they so chose of the elves."

Galadriel stepped forth, "You have the realm of the Golden Wood with you my old friend," she told Túrante, placing a hand over her cold one.

"As are the elves of Imladris, and so the elves of Mirkwood." Spoke Elrond, face grim and set in determination and fear. "May the light of the Valar shine upon us."

And so with that the preparations began.

They made sure that every group had elves with certain specialties, archery, long sword, twin blades, spears, and such as the like and two vampires to accompany them for extra protection and guidance through the secret passages.

Hallon and Larcien she sent with the kings of man, Aragorn, Faramir, Éomer, Gimli, and the elves that accompanied them, Legolas being one of them.

She would travel with Gandalf, Lord Elrond, Lord Thranduil and their top generals. Galadriel would remain behind with the elves that would remain in Rivendell and rule in the stead of the other elf lords.

They had a gathering place, s secret valley deep in the heart of the Iron Mountains. It would be here that they would all join together again and make their way to the underground tunnel and into the fortress of Angband. The thought made her stomach knot.

Túrante had hoped to have some time to herself to prepare for the journey, to ready herself, but that would not happen, she felt the presence of the elf prince approaching.

"Why do you travel with the kings and not with us?" he demanded, more meaning why she did not travel with him.

"The lords of the Elven realms need the greatest protection I can offer them; I have given you my two best. Are you not satisfied?" she was completely business like in her tone and demeanor.

"You can act that way all you want Canye, you will not drive me away so easily."

She sighed and looked into his eyes, grief and sadness etched into her face.

"What is the matter?" he asked concerned, and stepped forward.

"Legolas, as much as either of may want this, it cannot be."

"We will find a way to make it work after the battle."

"How so? Disobey your father? Cause strife among your people? Would you risk the safety and livelihood of your people? Because that is what would happen."

"You do not know that!" he protested.

"But I do. There are some who will never accept what I am, you know this. Elves are not apt to change overnight. Some would side with you, others you father. I can never leave my people; I can never live in another realm. Could you do that to your people over feelings for me?"

Legolas was silent for a long while, the reality of her words striking home, and it ripped his heart in two to know she spoke the truth. He may see her for what she really was, but others would not. He could not ask her to live with him and his people, there would be no happiness or joy there for her. But could he leave his people? Just like that, leave them without an heir if his father ever wanted to step down? If he left on bad terms, there are those who would follow him, but could he split his people, or give them the sort of life they deserved or wanted? The answer was simple, but yet the hardest he had ever had to make.

"No."

She gave a sad smile and a knowing nod.

So this is what his father always told him about the sacrifices of nobility. Things we love the most and the things we want the most are usually the ones we cannot have, the ones we must give up in order to give the people everything they need.

"I know." Was all she said.

Before he turned away from her, he spoke his last words to her for a long time, "There will never be another."

She wanted to protest to tell him to move on from her and to find happiness elsewhere and with someone else, but from the look in his eye, she knew better, she could see the truth, there would not be another elleth for him. And though she did not tell him, the same held true for herself, and the grief almost overwhelmed her, but she held it in, the only outward sign of her loss was the single dark blood red tear that slid silently down her cheek.

The ellon turned and walked away from her, leaving her alone on the grassy knoll. For Months that would be the last they saw of each other.

Túrante's group was the first to leave, for the safety of the lords, next would be Aragorn's group the following day. However, they would have altered paths, every group would. Some would have the more dangerous routes and not take the paths of the Misty Mountains, others would, each leaving from different exits along the way. Their travels would take them many miles away to the north, with good weather and hospitable terrain they could expect a few months journey, they however would not be so lucky. Neither the weather nor the terrain would be in their favor, always by the will of malice and evil would work against them.

Their departure was not a happy one, it was filled with sadness and worry from all those gathered. The elves lined the road leading out of the hidden city, a single hand raised in goodbye, and silent tears streaked the face of many. Still the lords and Túrante road on, leaving the great city behind and faced the war ahead. 


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Legolas paced the halls of Rivendell, his gait choppy and hurried. He took no notice the resident elves who scurried quickly by him, avoiding him at all cost. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, sighing loudly. He finally stopped, banging the same hand into the stone railing of the balcony he now stood on.

"Elrond would not be pleased to see you damage his halls so." The crisp female voice spoke, breaking him from his rampage.

Legolas jumped, turning to face Galadriel. He bowed and greeted her numbly.

"Let us walk." She offered a hand.

He hesitated, Legolas knew she wanted to speak with him and he had no desire to speak with anyone at the moment, not even the great lady. However, denying her was impolite, and it was more an order than a request. He gingerly took her outstretched hand. Then her voice echoed through his mind and he shuddered. He knew she had the gift, had felt it once before while with the company of the Fellowship, it was hard to get used to.

'_I have known Canye a long time.'_

Legolas did not respond, it was no new news to him of their relation together. But then he had another thought, unlike so many others the Lady of the Wood accepted her, remained her friend and loyal to her, why?

'_It was hard at first.' _She replied smiling when she saw Legolas frown, forgetting she could read his thoughts. _'Once she was free and the war against Morgoth over, she came to me in the dead of night. At first I was frightened, I recognized my friend, but I also knew it was not the same friend once had. No elf could manage to come into the kingdom of Lindon, where I resided at the time, unnoticed. Lindon was heavily guarded, yet she was there on my balcony and no sign of activity in the city.'_

She paused a moment here, thinking back to that fateful night so long ago.

'_Being of the Maiar, she had always been beautiful, but that night she was radiant, almost evilly so. It was a force that compelled one to her. It was a struggle no to go near, but for the warning in my heart I stayed where I was. She spoke to me then, only two words, 'help me.' I am not sure if it was the pain I could see through the shears in her eyes or my own curiosity that made me go forward. It was then I about screamed, had she not slapped a hand on my mouth, and the shock of her coldness. It was her eyes, now a golden color where the color of blood, with stains on her clothes to match.'_

'_I might have fought harder, woken my sleeping husband, until I saw the fear. She was terrified and in pain. Even after what I was seeing, it was still my old friend before me, and something else was propelling me to just listen. I was surprised when all she said was 'break into my mind, see everything.' I do not know if you understand what that request means?' _ She questioned Legolas, who shook his head.

'_It is not a request to take lightly, and nothing I had done before. To do such a task meant I would see her every memory, know her every thought, every secret, all her dark longings, they would be mine to have for as long as I remember them. There would be nothing hid from me, so you see Legolas what it was she was asking of me.'_

'_And did you?'_

'_Yes, I snuck her through the empty halls, to a tall observatory tower I often visited and few others rarely did. I am not sure what I was expecting, but it was not what happened, I was pulled from memory to memory, felt everything she felt, knew everything she knew. The process took most the night, when I was able to break away dawn was approaching. We sat there on the cold stone floor and we both cried. For you see everything I witnessed, she had to re-witness.'_

'_Why are you telling me this?'_

'_Because even after all these years, after breaking into her mind, knowing so much, it creates a sort of link, even without using my mind I can get flashed of her thoughts and feelings. The terrible things she thought of herself then, she still feels to this day. In her mind she is an abomination, maybe not to the extent she once did, for she knows she does good deeds, but it changes things little. She feels because she was created by evil for evil purposes she shall always carry that evil with her and never be rid of it.'_

'_I am sorry, my lady but I still fail to see how this pertains to me.' _ He was looking straight forward, avoiding the eyes of the Elven Queen. His chest was tight not only with anger but with pain. After today, there was a chance he would never again lay eyes upon her, and even if he did, there would be nothing he could do, he had his duty to his people, a duty she could not happily be a part of.

'_My dear prince, Have you not already considered starting a city in Ithilien? That had been your plan after traveling with the dwarf. Is that not splitting up your people? Not all would leave your father's halls.'_

'_If ever there was a chance of a future between us, it would be in her city. Could I ask it of my people to move there? To be among a people they distrust? It is not fair.'_

Galadriel gave a slight chuckle, _'It is rare for an elf to use those terms—it is not fair. For we all know nothing in life is fair after the long lives we are granted. Elves are not a people to take things for granted, especially the wills of the heart. A broken heart can be a grave thing.'_

'_I will not fade; knowing she lives will be enough.' _His voice echoed gravely in her mind, she knew he would not fade easily, yet she also knew that his happiness rested with Canye, alone he would never be the same, nor would she.

She foresaw many things; their future had many possibilities, depending on the paths they all chose, each weaving a slightly different outcome. One dream clung close to her heart, one she did not know if it was real, but she saw her old friend and the Prince of Mirkwood at her side, and they were happy, smiling up at one another on a balcony. But she knew her friends curse hindered such an outcome. Could there be a way to remove the curse? Could Canye ever be her old self again? They were questions Galadriel did not know the answer to, ever since she had seen the image she had researched, but always left empty handed.

'_There are forces in this world at work that even I do not understand Legolas, the Valar are powerful and ever watching, we do not know what they have planned.'_

'_What do you mean by that?'_

'_Simply to not give up so easily when the future has so many different possibilities. I will take my leave now. Get some rest and travel safely tomorrow.'_

She unhooked her arm, leaving the prince in the same spot where they had started their walk; he stared after her, brows furrowed and more thoughts now swarming his mind than before. That was how Aragorn found him. Starring off into the distance, eyes focused on nothing in particular, arms dangling loosely by his side.

Aragorn laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Let us get ready my friend, the dawn will come soon enough."

Legolas nodded, giving the hall a final glance as he followed the Gondorian King.

* * *

Three weeks had passed since their journey into the tunnel through the misty mountains, and they emerged now in the barren lands of the Forodwaith, above the old realm of the witch king, Angmar. There was a small covering of snow littering the ground; the northern waste claimed its name from the harsh icy climate. The people who once inhabited the area were hardy and well suited for their harsh life. The return of some of the northern people did not lessen the stench of evil that still lingered in the thin air.

The strong odor of sulfur hit her nostrils, turning her attention to the north west. I thick billowing black smoke rose in the distance, putting Túrante on guard.

"What is that?" Elladen asked. The two twins, much to the dislike of their father had decided they were accompanying our party to Angband.

"Fire, death."

"There are no people in the Forodwaith, is it them?" Elrohir spoke next; the tenseness rising in their bodies filled her senses. They were eager for battle, for revenge against the attack of their city.

"People from Lossarch, moved back into their old realm more than 100 years ago, my people have kept watch. That is one of the villages. I will need to go look into the matter."

"We shall accompany you."

"No, I will travel faster alone."

"That is all well and good, but we have an elf king traveling with who would like nothing more than to be rid of you. If we come upon a destroyed town that only you went to check, he might not get the best idea." Elrohir smiled, knowing he would get his way.

She turned a sharp eye to the elf prince, eyes narrowing.

"Let us go."

They clapped their hands from atop their steeds, smiles plastered across their smooth faces, ear to ear. Túrante could only shake her head at them.

The site that spread out before them halted their progress immediately. The huts built of mud, twigs, and ice where destroyed, nothing more than heaps on the ground. The possession of the families burning in multiple piles hauntingly lit up the dead bodies. He heart constricted, tightening in her chest, hot tears brimming in her eyes. Not just men lay upon the cold earth, but women and children, all dead, all drained of their life force.

She slide off her mount, the twins watching her carefully, she leaned by the body of little boy, no older than 5. His eyes wide with fear, glazed over starring into blackness forever. Placing a cold hand on his eyes, she pulled the lids shut, "May your soul find its way to the halls of Mandos and their find peace for all eternity." Her tears landed silently on the ground, her head bowed.

"Do you fair okay Túrante?"

She stood up at the sound of their voices, but no smile crossed her lips at their concern. "If by that you refer to my thirst, it is well controlled. If however, you mean my feelings, I am enraged and if had I not a job to do, those who did this would be hunted down and killed."

"Good, then we are in agreement."

"Gather the others."

She heard shuffling and hushed whispers behind her, she could have listened in, but did not feel the need as her mind was too wrapped around the destruction in front of her. After awhile the noises stopped and only one set of hoof beats could be heard leaving. Elrohir then stood beside her, more comfortable around her than his brother.

"What do we do now?" He asked, voice crackling, he too was struggling to hold back the tears.

"Give them the burial they deserve." Her posture straightened and a look of hard determination set upon her brow. With that she set to work, digging a long deep trench for which the bodies could be laid.

They worked like that, in horrible silence, together. Túrante would dig the grave and Elrohir fetched the bodies. Both were dirt covered and smeared with blood when the rest of the party made it to the village, their own gasps audible to her.

It seemed no words were needed, the other elves, the Lords included, began covering the graves. No one noticed the wizard was missing. By the time night was approaching they had finished and Gandalf's absence noted.

"Where is Gandalf?" It was Thranduil who asked, looking concerned.

"Not to fear," boomed a voice from beyond the village, "I am here. Had some work I had to carry out." And the old wizard appeared, carrying a very large stone piece.

"I thought I would never find stone in this forsaken land of perpetual ice. I have a tomb stone, for the remembrance of the lost."

They all nodded and they all shared tears as he laid it upon the freshly dug earth, saying a silent prayer for the souls of the lost. That night they stayed on the border of the town. They made the choice to let the horses go, here they had no way to provide them food or shelter from the cold biting winds. Unlike the elves and Túrante, they were not immune to the effects of the cold. In the morning they would set off, making for the secret valley hidden in the Iron Mountains.

They had lost a good day of travel, and without the horses, the going would be even slower, they would not be the first to arrive, they had to hope the groups that arrived first would stay put and keep calm. Túrante knew it would be hard pressed for Hallon and Larcien to keep the men there. She would have to push the Elven lords hard to save time.

She knew her friends where safe, every so often she would use her connection to check on them, but she sighed, it was not always enough. Even after she had finally gotten Legolas to let go, the thought of seeing him again after so many months was heart wrenching and she longed for his presence more every day. Túrante knew she had to focus, the twins were taking the first watch and she needed rest. She need all her concentration to keep her body in only a small fraction of sleep, deep sleep could mean more visions, and she could not risk it. And so with that she closed her eyes.


	26. Chapter 25

I want to take a minute to thank all of my faithful readers and reviewers, you make it worth my time to write and share my stories. Classes are starting back on the 7th so, look to the updates being slower again. Hopefully I can make this chapter last!

Chapter 25

There pass through the Blue Mountains was a long and treacherous one. Here the blood elves had no secret mountain pass, dwarves still inhabited deep within their depths. Some days they kept to the base, others they had to climb, the path was crooked and narrow, difficult even for the agility of the elves; many times Túrante found herself beside Gandalf. She worried for the old wizard. Maiar he may be, but he held a human body, a human body that was exposed to the chills and death of the mountains. She tried to keep them to the mountains, the weather fared better farther away from the Forodwaith.

She counted them lucky, they had not had an encounter with so much as a fly on since leaving the confines of the hidden tunnel, and it worried her. Much of the old lands where desolate now, but still held wildlife, if not people, even on the west side. The dwarves had to have food, yet where was it? Their luck could not last much longer.

"How long must we linger in this forsaken land?" Elladen asked, misery written across his face.

"This is nothing Master Elladen, we are but on the edge of the northern waste. Actually we are close to the old city of Belegost, a few dwarves remain hence since the recovery of Erebor." She replied. To her knowledge, they had not been harmed, yet no sign or sound of them had she encountered yet.

"Any relation to Gimli?" Elrohir asked, he had been working to make friends with the dwarf, as Legolas had and the two were almost always together.

"That I do not know, his father Gloin, was part of Thorin and company, yet if he stayed in Erebor after the mountain was retaken, I know not, nor of where they hailed from other than he was of Durin's folk."

She could hear Thranduil muttering behind them, clearly remembering his encounter with the group from not so many years ago. She had to smile at the thought of little Bilbo Baggins sneaking them all out. Túrante had laughed out loud when Gimli shared that part the tale of his father and their journey. And then she heard it, the sound she had feared—the clanging of metal against metal—there was a battle. She raised her hand and everyone stopped.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of air, not vampires, she thought, orcs. That was somewhat of a relief; they were easier to deal with and to kill than the second option. She did not have to catch a scent to know who they fought; it would be the dwarves of the Blue Mountains.

Without a word she took to the sky , barely skimming the tree tops until she was within seeing distance of the battle a few miles off. They were holding their own, but the orcs greatly outnumbered them. She was torn in her decision, as the men could not be left alone too long, but she could not let the dwarves get slaughtered, which they would eventually.

Sighing, she turned to go back to the men. It would be wrong to not tell them what she was doing, and as Elladen and Elrohir so kindly pointed out, her in a battle without a witness and multiple dead bodies did not look good to a certain Elven king they had in their company. However, her trip was short lived, for her own party was charging toward the battle. Túrante wanted to be angry but she just couldn't do it, she could however speed up the twin's trip, they were leading the charge.

She dropped in beside them, "How about a short flight?" she grinned evilly, ready for battle.

They looked at one another, smiled, and clapped hands, which she took as a yes as she snatched them by their tunics and took back to the skies not looking at the faces of the others, who no doubt were not happy. The twins hooted and hollered through the sky.

In no time at all she had them over the fray and dropped them in the middle of a swarm of orcs, not her best judge of distance, but it took the orcs by surprise and gave them ample time to cut down many before the foul beast could react. Then she dropped down with them, twin blades, glistening in the sun.

The orcs around her stopped confused. They could feel her power, but they could feel the evil that created her as well, as they were also creatures made of the same evil. Túrante gave them little time, swinging her blades wide she cut down the closest creature, sending the others into a panic.

Once they got control over themselves, they put up more of a fight, but very little. She took time to look for the others, they should be coming into the clearing soon. And sure enough, as she blocked the blow of an oncoming orc, she heard the elves yelling as they made their appearance, taking even the dwarves by surprise.

One of the dwarves had gotten knocked down in his shock, and the foul things were taking their advantages, no one would get there in time. Turning she landed a kick into the orc she was facing, sending him flying a few hundred feet into the side of the mountain, not needing to check to see if he was dead before she threw her blades with a satisfied smile as they both landed in the backs of the orcs surrounding the fallen dwarf, it also gave her time to get there and slay the remaining ones—they never saw what hit them.

She offered a hand to the dwarf, his yellow beard, matted with blood and dirt and wary green eyes staring into her own. He took it gingerly, the coldness jerking him out of his surprise.

"Thank you," he said more out of respect for a woman than actual meaning she thought.

"Do not thank me yet master dwarf, the battle is yet to be over."

She reached down, pulling her swords blackened with blood from the carcasses, and entered the battle once more. It ended quickly after their arrival, much to her pleasure, however, now their trip would be delayed that much more. It made her heart heavy, but looking back at her companions, they were weary, even if they would not show it or admit it, and she could see it. There was hardness in their walk; they had to put just a bit more effort into it each day, even the young ones were being drained, the lembas was all that kept them strong, here all hope seemed gone and the chance of victory seemed so distant to them, and the way only got worse, they need to recuperate, and hopefully now, the dwarves would show hospitality. She did not hold that too much hope.

They drew no weapons on them, surprisingly, as they approached the group and elves and a wizard. The leader of the group stepped forth, "I am Boir, son of Beldar, Lord of the old kingdom of Belegost. I thank you for your help." They all nodded in reply, without saying a word. He was rather tall for a dwarf. His hair a deep rich gold, and beard braided in many stands reached down to the girdle of his belt. His face was old, but there was strength still and many years of life. He was somehow related to the one she helped on the field of battle, his son maybe. "I mean not be rude, but I would ask why you have come so close to our borders? These are strange times, and travelers so far north are a rarity indeed."

"We are on a long journey, one I fear we have not the time to tell." Gandalf replied, leaning on his staff, lips in a tight line.

"The same task as the other party you had pass through no doubt?" Boir asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Túrante raised an eyebrow, not sure what the dwarf was implying.

"I may be old but my eyes work well enough, I know of the wizard Gandalf and from the robes of the elves, they are lords. The first group held the lords of men and one of my own kin. If it were not for that, I should have detained them and if not for the strange happenings of late believed them insane."

"Gimli Aragorn, and…the others?" she almost spoke his name, before she caught sight of the king of Mirkwood in her peripheral vision, "They came through here? They are safe?" Her voice was hopeful as she looked on the large dwarf, eyes large.

"Aye, they were when they left four days prior, now I could not say. However I shall offer you the same courtesy I offered my kin and his companions." Túrante noted how he put Gimli as their leader, but said nothing, just chuckled silently to herself. "I offer my home for you to wash and rest until you feel ready to depart in gratitude of your help on this day." He was gruff and she could tell not all that pleased and wary of her by the way his eyes always darted to her, narrowed, but she worried not about it, they had shelter and a safe resting spot for a few days.

She bowed slightly to the Dwarf lord, "Many thanks My Lord Boir, the courtesy of your hall shall not be forgotten." She laid on the praise thickly, but it seemed to work, she watched as he hid a smile and stood a bit straighter in their midst.

"We have not the time to tarry longer; we have wasted enough time as it is." Thranduil practically spat, the dwarf lord eyeing him through narrowed slits, not impressed.

"We have been granted the hospitality of the dwarves in time when we all are in need of rest for our weary souls; it would be stupid to decline their most gracious invitation, My Lord." Her voice was low; she tried hard to restrain herself from letting the words sound like the venom they tasted like in her mouth. It was hard to remain calm in the presence of the woodland king, he tried ever so hard to anger her, and it often worked.

"Túrante is right, we gladly accept you offer master dwarf. We shall follow you." The others in the party agreed, the twins were quite excited to see a dwarf kingdom.

And so they did, it was not long until they came upon a rocky outcropping from the mountain side no more than a fourth of the way up its height. Behind it was a smooth round rock, easily unnoticed if one did not know what they were looking for. It took two just to move it, revealing a black hall behind. Those leading the party grab two torches from the walls, lighting them with flint. The warm glow of the fire lit up the stone walls around them. They were smooth, ornate cravings covered them from floor to ceiling, dwarfish writing telling stories of ages long past.

Elrond walked beside her a thoughtful expression on his face, "I pray next time you decide to take my boys on a flying trip you give an on elf a warning."

She stifled a laughed, apologized very profoundly to the Elven king.

"I somehow doubt you are all that sorry," this time they both laughed

"I fear you may be correct."

"Welcome to the city of Belegost, rebuilt!" The booming voice of Boir echoed around them.

Túrante was taken aback by the beauty of the city. She had no love of being underground or inside of a mountain, not after Angband, but the ancient city was a wonder. The great entrance glittered in shining mithril

"Belegost, house of the folk of Durin the Deathless, May those who enter come in friendship and peace." Túrante read aloud.

"You read our language."

"And many a year did it take I fear. I hope it comes much easier to the race of dwarves than others." She smiled at the leader.

"Aye it does, as if we are born knowing it. Very few of the other races know it."

"We have had many years to practice I assure you, yet I will not speak it unless given no other choice for fear of butchering it." She gained a laugh from their host and a grunt from an elf behind her.

"Come," he said, "I will have people show you to your rooms."

Her room was not much, but it was comfortable enough. The dark wooden bed had a soft plush mattress, topped with heavy wool covers; the night in the mountains could get bitter cold if the fires went out. She had her fireplace lit more for the peace of watching it burn than the heat she did not need. She had her tube placed beside it to keep the water warmer longer. To have the grim of a month's travel behind her was a great relief. She had not known how good being clean could make her feel again. She sighed, dipping g farther down into the steaming water, eyes closing.

Her peace was only momentary as she thought back to the other groups traveling, yes Legolas and the others in their procession had gotten lucky and found the dwarf city and gotten a restful break, but what of the others? She knew not how they fared, how many had been killed already or injured. It was impossible to know but it was a fate many would face on the trip weather from the elements, orcs, goblins, or the vampires, some would never make it to the hidden valley in the Iron Mountains and it left coldness in her heart. She felt it was partly her fault for their deaths, it was her plan and her paths she chose for each, but it was for the greater good, he had to be stopped.

She then let her mind wander to Legolas; she let herself go to him, to see how they fared wherever in their journey they now were.

She saw them sitting in a circle, huddled together, no fire to keep warm, they were too close now to risk the smoke being seen and attracting attention would be a death warrant for their plan. They shared blankets and body, Hallon and Larcien on the outskirts of their camp keeping watch, they had kept their horses it seemed, though they were skinny, they seemed to be faring well. The group had only barely passed through the Forodwaith.

A smile played upon her lips as she watched them tell jokes and old stories to one another until they fell asleep one by one, Hallon taking first watch. She could have let her mind stay there for hours, but she knew she could not, they were safe and that is all that mattered, she needed to come back to herself and her own group.

Her water had grown cold by that point and she hoisted herself from the steel tub, wrapping a rough towel around her body as she went to gather new clothes. The little dwarf girl had laid them out for her on the chair that sat at the far side of the room she noted, neatly folded. She pulled on her brown leggings and silver undershirt. Over that she pulled on her sapphire blue tunic embroidered with dark red thread, showing the moon emblem of her city. Lastly she pulled on her socks and boots, making her way to the great hall. She knew sleep would not come for many an hour, she was used to having the first watch and still being up this time of night.

To her surprise she found a few dwarves still up and Thranduil, must to her displeasure. She made a beeline to the opposite end of the hall after fetching some water. She sat there listening quietly to the sounds around her, not focusing on any one subject for long, until she heard the silent footsteps of an elf behind her, and she did not need to look around to know who they belonged to.

"Lord Thranduil."

"I want you to stay away from my son." His voice was low and little more than a growl.

Her stomach tightened and she felt her anger rising but she had to bury deep down, getting into a fight with the elf would do no one any good. "Might I point out that the prince is not here for me to keep away from?"

"You know my meaning vampire, when this war is over I want you nowhere near him. He is a prince, he has responsibilities, and he deserves better than you." His voice was venom.

This time she did turn around, looking him square in the eye, causing him to take an involuntary stare back, "Let me say this Lord Thranduil, your son is not a boy, he is free to make his own choices, as am I. I need not the voice of others to tell me right from wrong and what to do with my life. Neither does he. However, I will offer this bit of comfort, though I scarce know why. Whatever you believe there is between your son and I is not there and even if there were, I know better than to lay hope on false realities. I have been on this earth many ages, long enough to see you born and raised and your parents before you. I make no choices lightly, especially those concerning the well being of others. I would not willingly put my people into the ridicule of yours."

She said no more, her eyes challenging him to say more, she feared, though, if he did she would not be able to hold back her rage. Luckily she did not have to try, for he turned swiftly on his heels and strode away, leaving her alone with the remaining dwarves in the hall, all sneaking glances her way.

She wanted to leave, find fresh air, she knew she could, but she did not want to give him the satisfaction of winning, though in a way she had. There was a renewed ache in her chest with the ripe thoughts of Legolas, of their few stolen moments. It was a future she so desperately long for yet knew she could never have. The reality Thranduil had made her relive threw daggers in her heart. She had to close her heart off from the reach of others, for ages she had managed that way perfectly, now she would just have to again. It was her only option, it was better than feeling this raw wrenching pain day and day out.

"Do I frighten you?" she asked the dwarf lord who had been standing behind her silently for some time now. Her voice was flat and without emotion.

"Yes." She peered at him from her seat; he came to her eye level in the low chair she occupied. "And no." he finished. "It is natural to fear what one does not know or understand. Your kin explained the bases of your journey and your kind. I fear the things you are capable of and what happens if you fail. I fear what that means for my people.

"They are well placed fears, but I mean you know harm, you need not fear me."

"You crave blood, you are craving mine right at this moment if I am not mistaken, it is hard not to fear you." Boir stated, his voice was still gruff, it held none of the tones of fear he implied with his words. He was a good leader to be able to hide his emotions from his people when it was needed.

"Wrong, my craves it, yes. My throat burns for it day and night, but my heart and mind do not. It is a constant battle they wage inside, never ending."

"What if your heart loses?"

She gave him a thoughtful expression, "It cannot, it would mean my destruction and there for the destruction of Middle Earth. Too much rides on my control of the battle for it to lose master dwarf."

"I hope you are correct." He told her, glancing over his shoulder one final time before walking away. He never heard her mutter after him, "me too."

Túrante allowed them two night rest in the dwarf city before deciding it was time to move on, too much time had already passed and every moment they lost could spell out their defeat. Boir had also decided to help them in more ways than one. He restocked their supplies of water and food and clothing needs. It was also his gift to them to show them through the old halls of the city to the northern most entrance, one than had not been used since the first age. It would leave them on the Western border of the mountains and only a day's journey to the northern border of their ending. 

The pass, by her calculations almost made up for the two days they had spent with their host, the going was dark but easy going. There were no harsh elements to fight or worry of being spotted or running into a band or orcs or worse. She spoke little on the trek but upon their parting she graciously thanked Boir and once again told him his help would not go unrecognized should she make it home.

"We have a hard day travel to reach the edge of the Ered Luin; we need to make it there before nightfall if we wish to not spend another night in the Forodwaith." That seemed to quicken all their paces, as no one lagged behind or slowed down and they took only the rests that were absolutely necessary. And in her time frame they truly had made it to the end of the mountains, "Welcome to Anfauglith, the charred desert of Beleriand."

She turned then to begin making camp. She kept away from the group, sitting alone on a ridge, the Iron Mountains looming ever closer to them.

All the members noted the change in her character and it did not go unnoticed by her. The twins worked twice as hard to get her to smile by playing tricks on one another, cracking more jokes, usually on the behalf of the other, all to try and cheer her up. Gandalf told stories of his many adventures and the places he had seen and people he had met. Of course the twins were most enthralled, while the Elf lords talked to one another. Elrond was the only one who seemed to think leaving her alone was the best idea, she was silently thankful. It was hard to ignore the antics of Elrohir and Elladen and not laugh during Gandalf's stories. But she had to do it.

Túrante knew they believed it to be the dread of returning to the place of her torture and creation, which did begin to weigh heavily on her soul, but the pain of closing her heart to those around her, to remember she was not of elf kind anymore, weight heavier. She was a blood-elf, the first damnation of Melkor.

…

To be so far north the air in the Anfauglith was suffocating. Charred remains littered the ground that was still burned black beneath their feet. The poignant smell of sulfur wafting through their noses, burned like fire, choking them. Even Túrante found breathing difficult, and she did not even have to breathe to live, it was more just a reaction that came naturally. She wanted to quit, but could not, it felt wrong to her to stop her suffering when her companions could not. She would suffer with them.

This was their most dangerous trek of the journey, here there were no trees or bushes or tall grasses or even rolling hills from the mountains to hide them from sight. Everywhere you turned flat land stretch as far as the eye could see to the base of the Iron Mountains. If there were scouts looking out, they would see them, and they would have to fight, there would be no option and they would not win.

All of their nerves were taught and ready to burst, even Elrohir and Elladen had become very quiet and restless. No words were uttered unless it was absolutely needed, not that silence would save them here.

It took only a day and a half to cross the barren waste lands, for they ran a good portion of the way, adrenaline pumping, none of them seemed to tire, and Túrante was glad for that as she stared up from the foot of the Iron Mountains.

A cold chill rushed through her body, flashes of memories burned in her mind: the dungeons far below dripping with moisture, the smell of blood and the sound of it dripping from the hanging corpses used to taunt them, the chains and other tools that lined the eastern wall. She shuddered and turned away.

"We stay here the rest of the night, at dawn we will make for the hidden valley."

There was no man made pass through the Mountain range, one had to forge their own path through the merciless terrain or go around for miles and miles to come to their ending. That was the safe pass, but a much longer one. They would be lucky to make it around in a month without horses and if the weather was good and it never was.

The path they took was along a small mountain creek bed, that wound its way north straight to the valley. How it came to be no one knew, Túrante guessed the water ever so slowly eroded the stone away long before her time when Middle Earth was new. They way was easy, it held only a gradual incline. The mountains at first loomed great and tall and ominous above them, yet as they neared the oasis, they were mid way to their full height. The last leg was the worst part, the walls of the mountains grew very tight together, making so each of them had to turn sideways to shimmy through to not get stuck and then they were there.

It opened wide to reveal a space as far as the eye could see of rolling green hills. Fir trees grew everywhere in great clusters, all around the great pond that created its center. A soft wind rippled its waters. The elves with her stood in awe.

"How is this possible?"

"We are not sure, a gift from the Valar perhaps? Somehow this place remained untouched from Melkor's reign of destruction. No evil ever tainted its borders. Animals and life still thrive in this small bit of land." She replied.

'_They had made it,'_ she thought, _'and most of the others too.' _Looking around, near the base of the mountains, white tents had been put up, at least one hundred already. They had lost more time than she thought, but it did not matter now, they were here. All they heavy burdens from the evil presence left her body, here it was peaceful. The memories of Angband seemed far behind, but the threat they all had to face was looming ever nearer.


	27. Chapter 26

I am very sorry for the wait on this chapter, I have had absolutely no free time since class has started back so I am only able to write a little at a time and it is taking ages! I hope this chapter will make up for the wait. I also noticed that I have 13,000 views and 38 followers, that is absolutely amazing and I would just like to thank all of you for continuing to read my story as it progresses!

**Chapter 26**

The day dawned bleak and dreary as she sat silently outside her tent. They had been in the valley for a fortnight now, most of the groups had made, yet not without casualty. On the second day a group had come in with multiple dead and more injured where two groups had joined when one was attacked. Three of her people were among the dead. After that she had sent out scouts to patrol the surrounding areas. When a group of blood elves were spotted a signal would go up and they attacked. So far they had luck with them. None of the enemy escaped, though death occurred for both sides. It was keeping them hidden.

"Túrante!" She heard her name called out, the voice frantic and high pitched. It had to be Larcien. Before she even had time to react she was in the air racing toward the sound calling to her. When she landed she was near the secret entrance and saw a scene that was all too familiar.

At her feet lay the dead bodies of her people, and a few elves who had volunteered to scout as well. They were mutilated. She had been through many battles, watched thousands die, and buried as many, yet the first initial sight was never any easier, it always struck deep and true. A silent red tear slid down her cheek, her throat burning at the smell.

"What happened?"

"They must have figured out our plans, my lady." A man spoke, supported by another of her people, he was bloodied but starting to heal, he had lost a lot of blood. "We spotted a group of them and sent up the alarm. When the others joined us we attacked as planned. But they had others too, ones we never saw or smelled. I do not know from where they came. I just know at first we were winning, everything was going in our favor how it was supposed, and then they just appeared. At least fifty of them, we stood no chance."

She took in all he said, if he is the only survivor, they could know we are near. Some could have made it back to Eglanon. If that were the case, they could be attacked any day now. Eglanon might not know where they were, but if he truly wanted to find them he could, and easily.

"How did you escape?"

"By luck, the vampire must have been a fledgling, he went to decapitate me, but did not manage to slice through and he left me dead, I was able to heal; only it took many a day."

"How long ago was the battle?" Túrante almost yelled, she had thought this recent, not an attack from days prior. Her posture was rigid as she came down upon the soldier, "How long?"

"Aaat, at least a week My Lady… I am sorry, we tried we all tried, it just was not enough, we were outnumbered."

"Túrante?" Larcien questioned.

"Take him to the healing wing, bury the dead—all but burn them, we cannot risk the smoke. If there are any lords not present, find them, we have a meeting now." She turned on her heels and swiftly made her way to the meeting tent, the crowd that had gathered parting quickly from her path.

Legolas was the first to arrive in the tent; she did not have to turn from her pacing to know, the fresh burning of her throat from the blood all but vanished. She tense immediately, now was not the time to discuss what ever there was between them and she knew that is why he came before the others. The more she thought about it there was nothing to discuss, as there was nothing between them, not which could ever be true.

"You are different as of late." His statement was simple, but direct. She stopped her pacing to peer at him, standing still in the middle of the entrance, arms folded behind his back, his face written over with worry masked with a look of indifference.

"War is not an easy time."

"It is not war I speak of. This started earlier. I have talked with the others, they all have noted it." His voice was calm an even, only serving to anger her more. "You never smile anymore, never laugh or joke. And you speak less, which you never did much of before. Something has happened. What?"

"You would do better to speak with Hallon or Larcien, they know me well enough, I have not the time to deal with such things, now of all times." She hissed, resuming her pacing, trying desperately to forget the elf prince and find a solution to their problem. Of all times he picks to bring this up, it's now. Now when they have a battle looming ever nearer? Now when she had sworn to close off her heart like she had for so many years and he threatens with each word to break it all apart?

"I am asking you." This time his own voice was laced with anger he was trying hard to control, she was taken aback slightly, the worry she saw in him and felt but not the anger. He was full of anger she saw now as he was losing control, his anger he had suppressed for many ages, and not just with her, was bubbling to the surface.

He has been so angry for so long she noted, and was ashamed that she had not noticed before. It was all her doing, he was fine when they arrived at the valley, but it had been building slowly every day she saw now. He had tried multiple times a day to speak with her and she would always find an excuse to brush him aside and perform task to take up her time. Túrante stopped her pacing then, facing him. She would tell him the truth.

"I did what I had to do. We do not have time for this now, I have called a meeting."

"And I told them it was not for an hour hence, we have plenty of time." Legolas challenged.

He had caught her off guard with that one, what would she do now? She had planned to tell him the truth but not now, she had hoped the meeting would delay it and after that battle plans, but no that was all out the window now.

"So enlighten me on what it is you _had to do."_ The last words, made her cringe from their harshness.

"We have been through this before we left, nothing can form between us no matter how much we would want it. It is better to bury these feelings, than let them destroy me." She could have mentally slapped herself. Me? She was supposed to say us not me, take the focus off solely her. So much for that. She watched as an unreadable emotion flashed through Legolas' eyes. She dared not know what it was. "As well, your father has made it…"

"My father?!" his voice no longer calm, reverberated through her tent, she just knew her people and probably some of the elves could hear if they were really trying, and she knew they would be. "He has nothing to do with this."

"Oh but he does Prince, he is your father, you are heir to his kingdom. I cannot, no I will not ever live in Mirkwood. Not under your fathers ridicule or your people's. It is madness."

"I had not planned to live under my father's rule after the war. After the trip to Rohan I was to take some of the elves to Ithilien and rule there. However, I had not mentioned this to any other than Galadriel before our departure. I had wanted to talk about this sooner, you, however, never gave me the chance!"

"That is absurd, even if your father let you, the elves would still be prejudice, there is no changing that, I still could not take my people there—even to Ithilien." She was trying to plead with him, but was getting nowhere.

"Do you not understand? I would go to Calithil Canye, alone. I would stand by your side there, without my people. There will be no…"

"Legolas." She finally spoke, her voice a whisper, silencing him. "You have to stop."

"I will not, not till you see, not till you understand."

"Understand?" She bellowed, tears now threatening to fall. "You do not understand. Every day since I first met you and your company, you have piece by piece been shattering this wall I built for ages. This wall kept me safe, it kept me strong, and it held me together. You all have shown me more kindness and friendship than I deserve. But this wall has to stay, without it I will break. This bond between us, whatever it is, is strong, yet I cannot be with you and it tears me apart. Is that what you wanted? Because that is the truth, it is ripping me apart little by little" She was shaking, it was all she could do to hold it in and hold it together. Saying the words out loud was harder than she had ever imagined. It was as if she had taken her soul and slung it out to him, but knowing it would do no good. His father was right, she did not deserve him.

He did not say a word, he did not go to her as she slumped to the group, head on her knees. He did not know what to say or what to do. The strong willed, tough woman was not the same one he meet so many months ago. She was somehow more real now, more elf like, but broken. She said the wall held her together, but he knew better, that wall kept her from healing because she did not believe she should be. It was a punishment all her own.

Legolas did not remember Faramir coming in, but he remembered the Gondorian ushering him out, where the group stood, his father ahead of them all, his face full of shock and something Legolas could not place. But he knew they all heard their exchange. He also remembered Faramir saying the meeting was delayed, before he went back inside the meeting tent.

Inside Túrante felt her friend kneel beside her, arms wrapped around her shoulders, but all she remembered was crying.

She did not remember going back to her own tent, but at some point Faramir must have led her there. She had a basin of warm water and a rag in front of her to clean herself up, blood stains dripped down her checks from the red tears. The warm water soothed her raw cheeks. Túrante stood up after a few moments, and began rummaging through her belongings, until she found what she searched for. There was not much time left, the battle would commence soon, much too soon, yet that fate was inevitable.

She looked down at her battle gear, a strange emotion filling her; she could not quite place it. Many long years had passed since she had looked upon this gear. Galadriel had it made special, not long after their reunion. She had never had to actually use it. She had always known deep in her heart that the time would come for it, her long time friend knew as well. The Breeches were a deep rich navy, made of the finest Elven material. The tunic was made to match; silver lining etched the edges, with shining burgundy threads reflecting in the candle light. From shoulders the silver came down in the form of a crescent moon, with the burgundy threads creating an intricate elvish design inside. It differed from many elvish tunics, the front was tight fitted, ending even with her hip bones, yet dropped long in the back, almost to her knees. Silver clasps laced up the front.

Túrante took her time as she hooked the silver belt around her waist, and added her weapons at her side. The silver pauldrons and arm gauntlets came next. When the gear was first made she did not think them very necessary, she healed so quickly, now however she was thankful for her friends foresight, they would offer her some protection.

Last came her hair with she did in a intricate braid from the left, wrapping it around the back of her head and nape of her neck to hang loosely from the right, tied with a silver string. If they were going to battle, she would look the part leading her people.

After taking a few deep breaths she composed herself and marched into the meeting tent, she swept in through the entrance, all eyes jerking up at her motion. She felt all their questions bombarding her, though none were voiced aloud. She ignored them all.

"We do not have long now. We must move fast if we want to keep the element of surprise. All the parties have not made it here, but I do not believe we can wait. After that last attack, Eglanon has had plenty of time to find us with those survivors from the last attack."

"What do you suggest we do?" Gandalf asked his face wrinkled with tension.

"We still have a few scout groups out, many of which contains the elves. We call them back tonight and upon their return, take the pass and begin our assault upon Eglanon. He now knows for certain we are close."

"Can you see no other option?" Elrond questioned, worry laced in his voice.

"This is why we came here my lord, it is now or it may be too late."

He nodded in response, and the others agreed, they did not have much else to say. Silence echoed throughout the room.

"Hallon, Larcien, send word to the remaining scout groups; get them back as soon as they are able."

They both turned and left, they did not utter a word. They were not happy she knew first by what they overheard earlier and second the impending battle was looming darkly ahead.

They spent the next hour, going over their strategic plan. They would have to go in waves, a few at a time, they couldn't all travel at once, but it would have to take place within a week, take out a little at a time in quite secret for a long as possible. She would lead in the first wave, Hallon the next, and Larcien the third. And as usual the lords would be under her watch. She wanted with all her heart and soul to put them with the others, but could not; they were her responsibility and what Eglanon wanted more than anything. She had to keep them safe no matter the cost.

Túrante walked out of the tent, the Lords following her. She took a deep breath in, looking up to the sky. The clouds from earlier began parting, stars twinkling in the gaps of wispy clouds. She looked to her long time friends.

"Have the messages been sent?"

"Yes, they should have already been received and the groups returning. Only one had elves with them, they should be the last returning, and here on the marrow at the latest."

"Good…" she was close to saying more, but stopped. She took in another deep breath, this time through her sensitive nose; there was a scent on the air the breeze was blowing in from the west. Her heart lurched to her throat she knew that smell. She felt her hairs stand on end, her fangs elongating in her mouth, her senses sharpening. Túrante turned to Hallon and Larcien; she knew they had caught wind by the looks on their faces. He was close.

"He is going for the elves."

There was no time to explain to the others as they took off, but they did not need to. Those few words had said enough, they all knew he meant Eglanon.

They arrived to the group quickly as they were only a little over a league from the valley and the fighting was already commencing. The stench of blood was thick in the air, the clang of steel ringing, and screams echoing in the night. They joined in an instant, the three falling into place in a circle around the elves, protecting as many as they could, but they were greatly outnumbered. This host had been meant to come to the valley for its attack, not this scouting group she knew that instantly.

When one fell, it seemed two more were there to take their place. Then one by one, more and more of her people showed up, coming to their aid but it was not enough, this was not a battle they could win, he was releasing his whole force upon them. She knew then what is was she had to do.

"EGLANON!" she called out at the top of her lungs in between foes. He was not in the battle, but he was close watching, she knew, Túrante could feel him; almost feel his laughter at their defeat. He wanted this battle badly, but there was something else he wanted more, and she would give it to him if it gave her army time to continue their planned attack.

Then the battle waging around her halted, parting to make a path to the heart of the battle, to where she stood, making way for Eglanon. His black hair was pulled partly back at the temple, a black circlet adorned his head, and blood red rubies dangling from all sides highlighted his pale white face. His blood red eyes locked coolly on her amber ones, the smile on his face revealing his elongated fangs, making her release a low rumbling growl from her throat.

"Have you come to give up the location of your precious Elven army sweet sister?"Surely you know you are lost here?" his voice was so soft as he spoke but the words cut through her, stinging her ears.

"No."

"No? What a pity. I had hoped you would have come to your senses. If you had just revealed the location, I would have just turned the lot of them, now I shall have to kill them all." His smile grew even wider at his statement, making her hands curl into fists.

"I have come to offer you something you wish much more." She spoke her voice calm and quite to match his, but she was scared. This may be her last night on this earth; she may never see her new friends again. She could only hope they would understand, understand and not lose hope, that they would continue their attack and win. Her people and the elves stared at her in confusion, all except Hallon and Larcien, they knew.

"Oh? I am curious, I do not see those mighty Lords I want so much with you." He was circling her now as he spoke, yet Túrante kept her eyes glued ahead.

"I offer you myself; if you take your creatures and let my people go. Otherwise we fight, to the death, and you shall never have me."

Eglanon stopped suddenly in front of her, surprise on his handsome face. "You give yourself up to save the lives of these pathetic few followers behind you?" he looked her up and down trying to find any trace of a lie in her. He saw none. "Very well, they shall all day sooner or later; you only bought them a few more days of life. Take her weapons." He commanded and four of his monsters came forward, reaching for her and Hallon and Larcien started forward.

"No!" she commanded, "Your job now is to lead our people, keep them safe, and do what you must. That is an order from your Queen Hallon and Larcien. Do it." She gave them one last look, seeing the tears forming in her friends eyes, they made no more attempts to help her as rough hands grabbed her roughly from the arms.

They jerked her arms behind her, tying them tightly with wire, ripping her weapons from her belt and slinging them to the ground. They were not gently and every time they found the opportunity to strike her or push her down they took it, but she did not fight back and she did not look back. Then all she saw was blackness as a black sack was thrown over her head.


	28. Chapter 27

**Please note there are torture scenes in this chapter. I have the story rated teen, I have tried not to make it too gruesome, if anyone reading thinks they should be toned down or the rating moved up please let me know! For the most part it is more mental torture than physical but I wanted to warn all readers before hand, thanks!**

**Thanks again to all my faithful readers and reviewers, it means so much to me!**

Chapter 27

They ran the group hard, keeping the elves to the center, wanting to get back to the valley as fast as they could. No one spoke; no one knew what to say. A hard lump grew in Larcien's throat, she could not stop the tears but she held in the sobs that threatened to escape her tight lips. She was so angry at her friend, so angry she would just give up like that. Yet another part knew she did what had to be done to protect their mission. It was a hard fact they had lived with every day, but she never expected it to come to this. Túrante had always been strong, always been their leader, even when she was absent from the city. Now she was gone, she could already be dead for all she knew. No, she thought, no he would keep her alive, just so. His game was torture not mercy. She was still alive, though she may have been better off dead.

The clearing came into view all too soon, with the whole camp awaiting their return. She heard the signal go up, they had been spotted. Fresh help flew from the peaks to help carry the dead and wounded. The first people they came upon were the very ones she least wanted to see. Faramir, Gimli, and Legolas stood in front with Gandalf and the others right behind them. Immediately their eyes began scanning the ones returning, hoping to see all the faces they knew returning on foot. That would not be so.

Larcien's blood shot eyes, met the elf princes, the look on his face was torture, and he began scanning the bodies being carried around him in earnest, unable to move. Gimli was the first to speak. "Where is Túrante lassie?" his gruff voice strained at the sight of her face.

She opened her mouth to speak but found she had no words for the dwarf or the others in front of her. Hallon spoke in her stead; the despair thick in his voice made it gruff, and brought the pain back of the loss all that much more.

"She is gone." His voice sounded hollow.

"Gone? What do you mean gone, she is not among the dead." Legolas hissed, and no one needed to ask how he knew she was not here.

"Eglanon has taken her."

"How is it that so many came back, yet only she was taken?" Faramir asked anger apparent in his voice. Of the group he had become the closest to her, other than Legolas of course, he did not know how. His mind kept racing through their travels with Túrante, his cool demeanor towards her changing to respect and then to friendship. His mind hung on the night she gave him the sword to kill her if she could not save the Gondorian king before switching to just the night before where she was curled in his arms crying and broken. He could not accept she was gone, he would not; they would find a way to get her back.

The elves that were clustered still in the middle of their group all began to squirm uncomfortably. Though most ignored them, expect for the older lords. Elrond and Gandalf held the same look, one of grief but also of knowing.

Gandalf sighed looking upon the vampires in front of him, "She was not exactly taken was she Hallon?"

"No, she gave herself up in turn for the safe return of the group. Eglanon had all but emptied Angband in an assault, there would have been no survivors."

"You just let her go? How could you just let her go?" Legolas spoke again, fists clinched tightly at his sides, his father ignoring his son. _How could this be so? _ He thought desperately. _ She cannot be gone. This was not the fate she deserved. He might not get the chance to remedy the chasm that had forged itself between them, or ever tell her how he felt. _His thoughts were all swirling inside his head, jumbling his thoughts. _How did he feel about her? _ Legolas asked himself when the thought occurred to him. _What were his feelings?_

"Trust me elf prince it was not willingly. She gave a royal degree; we had no choice but to follow. She gave us time to continue with our assault, it was her last wish." His blood teared eyes bore into the elf prince's.

"She could be dead!" Gimli protested, outraged. He liked the lass, somehow they had become friends over the past month, the second elf he had befriended, _well to an extent the second elf_, he corrected himself. Lately at night they had been sharing tales of their adventures and homeland. What would he do tonight? There would be no more stories from her.

"She would be better off dead than Eglanon's prisoner." Hallon's words cut through the cold day air, silencing everyone around. Larcien gave him one look and pushed out the crowd unable to hold back the sobs any longer. His words startled even him, not from the harshness in which they sounded but in the truth that rang with them. She was going back to the place where she was created, back to the place of her torture, the place she and all the others still had nightmares about. She would relive it all.

Gandalf stepped forward, "We will speak no more this day, take time to grieve, at dawn we will figure out what we must do next, the grief is too strong now." He inclined his head towards them all, and then stopped, "My lord Hallon." He addressed the vampire to his right, subtly telling them all they must all assume Túrante dead until proven otherwise, Hallon was now the new ruler of Calithil and its people. It was not something Gandalf had wanted to do, but it was what had to be done.

Even for him, though he held it in, the grief cut deep. He remembered Canye now, the young bold elfling in the undying lands. Always getting into things, getting hurt or getting into trouble. Her mother oft came to him asking what to do with her unruly child. Of course her father only added to the problem, usually the one with his daughter getting into trouble. Of course it was never anything bad, just enough to cause her mother stress. Canye was not the proper daughter she had imagined, though she loved her all the same. They would be proud of her now if they knew all that had transpired. Gandalf held onto those dear memories, wanting to remember her as she was, and he hoped with all his being they would find her alive.

…

She did not know how long she had been out, she did not, being a vampire, know she could be knocked out. Shaking her head she tried to orient herself to her surroundings but everything was fuzzy, making her nauseated she began struggling against the bonds that held her. She felt her feet barely touching the floor, her shoulders were throbbing so she knew her arms were held over her head. The cold iron chains where infused with mithril, she could not break them even as she tried desperately.

Then she smelled it. Her throat was on fire in a second, as if a red hot branding iron had been shoved down it. She could not breathe, she gasped for air that only brought with it more blood. Blood. That was all she could think, its aroma was startling sweet and rich to her senses, overcoming her will to fight the bondages. There was blood everywhere Túrante realized. She was covered in it, she could feel it running down her arms and head then, pooling at her feet. Even her eyesight was red. He had soaked her in human blood. Elf blood. The only thing she wanted to do was scream, and scream she did, it was all she could do. It was blood curdling, but she was deaf to it. The guards posted outside her door, however, were not and they fell to their knees in pain from the sound.

Then her world became darkness again.

When she woke she did everything she could to hold her breath, knowing the scent of blood would send her under yet again. But it never came. Slowly she made her herself open her eyes. The room was dark, only a little light shown through the cracks in the wall, casting an eerie blue sheen on everything. There were no tapestries on the walls, no pictures, just old moss and mold. There were no windows just one door straight ahead of her and a chair. A chair that was not empty. Dread filled her heart. All she saw, all she felt, and all she thought of was Melkor. She was back in Angband, she had been caught, and it was over she knew then. Túrante began kicking and writhing, anything to break free of the bonds that held her, knowing they would not. Her own blood began filling her nostrils with its scent, causing her already burning throat to flare up yet again.

"Oh dear sister, do quit fighting, it is most unbecoming of you." The voice drawled, as the figure slid gracefully from the chair to walk towards her.

_Sister? _She thought, _he called her sister, why_? Then she remembered.

"Eglanon." Her voice was rough when she spoke, barely a whisper, but she knew he heard her.

"You were quite a disappointment with my little…experiment. I had hoped you might have drunk some of that rich elf blood; instead you incapacitated my guards with those horrendous screams. Tisk tisk tisk."

"Go to hell."

"Oh I am already there, and you will be soon." He smiled at her trailing a finger across her face.

She tried jerking her head away from him, the touch of his skin on hers cold as ice. His fingers wrapped tightly around her chin, jerking her head up to look at his. She could break away.

His face changed then, the cruel smile was replaced by a frown and this brow creased in anger, "I want to feel the pain I had to endure, the torture he put me through."

"We all went through Melkor's torture, you were not alone in your suffering until you gave in."

He slapped her then and she felt the bones of her jaw crack, felt the pain travel up her face and skull. He studied her closely.

"Strange, your healing is stunted." His smile returned, "This is a nice surprise, my poison did more than I originally thought."

She wanted to yell at him, scream, or say anything but the pain in her jaw prevented any such action. Movement was almost impossible, the healing was painstakingly slow. The bones were barely moving back to where they belong, and their adjustment was a torture all its own. The bones were grinding together, pulling muscle and tendons alike, trying to sort out the mess.

He brought out a knife, tracing a line down her broken face; she felt the blood start pouring from the incision. Túrante tried to clinch her mouth together, keep from making a noise, but she could not. The gasp escaped her lips anyways giving Eglanon his satisfaction.

"I have another gift for you before I take my leave, dear sister," he told her walking towards the chair. From behind it he pulled out a bucket.

There was a lid on it, but she knew what it was, it was blood. She should have known he was lying about being done with it. Even if it did incapacitate the guards he knew she could not break free of the chains. He just wanted to raise her hopes, just to watch them fall; she should have known all along, she fell for it.

As he got closer, she could not help herself, she began fighting, trying to pull free from the chains above her. Her shoulder muscles were pulling with every move, sending pain up to her fingers where the blood was now barely reaching. He did not speak a word as he slowly open the lid, tossing it aside, the clanging it made from hitting the floor echoed in her ears, making her cringe. She closed her eyes, forcing her mouth shut; she could not let the blood enter. _So that was it, _she finally understood, _he wanted to break her, make her take the blood of another, even if it was by force. Eglanon wanted to take from her everything that she now stood for and had worked for, he wanted her to lose everything like he thought he had. _

It was fresh, the warmth of it, hot against her cold skin. Her movement stopped. She could feel her fangs growing; feel the urge to drink surfacing deep in her stomach. It would be so easy, all she had to do was open her mouth and let it in, the suffering would end. _No! _ She scolded herself shaking her head that was Eglanon, no Melkor talking, it was not her. This is not what she wanted.

Túrante summoned all the strength she had left and opened her eyes staring straight at her brother, defiance clear in her eyes. He only spoke a few words to her before he left for good. "You should remember this place, it is where you were created." And with those words, she was lost again.

This time the darkness that took her was not silent, it brought with it images and memories from long past. She saw Melkor in all his beauty, for he was beautiful, but full of darkness. He looked much like an elf, but there was an aura about him, a black aura, it seemed to radiate off of him. He chose that form for good reason, to fool those that walked Middle Earth, and it worked.

She watched as he tortured elf after elf, making them all like her, the incantation filling her mind. Those monstrous words were all she could her. She wanted to run to them, help them somehow, but she found even in dreams she was bound and could not move.

Túrante saw him destroying the world she now lived in, watched as he destroyed the realm of Doriath and Beleriand. Even Gondolin fell to his evil. Her heart broke for the lives of her kindred that were destroyed at his hands.

She could feel their pain as if it were her own, feel the sting of the steel that cut threw them, the burn of the fires lapping at their fair skin, and feel their screams in her throat. Their terror was hers. Túrante felt the evil seeping into the earth, tainting it for many ages to come.

Soon she was too exhausted to take anymore and Túrante fell into complete darkness.

…

Aragorn, Gandalf, and Elrond stood around the table in the meeting tent, studying the maps Túrante had made for them, trying to figure out what their next move should be.

"Obviously this is the path we are to take through the mountains," Aragorn said as he pointed to a trail in the mountains colored a much darker charcoal than the rest. "But it does not show the entrance. It should be just there," he pointed to a ridge to the west, "However, the only thing there is a tributary off the lake, and no opening in the rocks to be found."

"We cannot hope to follow her plan if we cannot find the path." Gandalf said, sighing to himself.

"You will not find the entrance above ground my lords," Hallon stated, striding into the tent, Larcien close on his heels.

"You know of where it is?" Elrond asked, eyeing the two in front of them.

"Yes, it is here. You had the general area correct just not the right idea. You must go under the water. A few feet under there is a cave, no more than a hundred feet, it opens into the tunnel." They all looked at him in silence.

"Since Túrante is no longer with us, we will need to figure how we shall arrange the phases. Those that enter first will no doubt have the longest fight ahead, they will encounter the enemy first and they will not have breaks." Gandalf told them all. "Hallon your people need to be distributed among the elves, try to make the fight as fair as possible. We cannot have them all at the head, and killed off before the first day of battle is over. This will not be a short fight."

"I agree," Hallon nodded. "We need to also all leave at once. Not in the three groups, we will not have the time; Eglanon's scouts are getting to close to the valley to risk waiting."

He studied the map hard, scrutinizing every line of detail. "Our best bet is to split three ways when we enter. One part to the left, one to the middle, and to the right." He showed them pointing to points on the map.

"How will we know where to break and who goes where?" Aragorn asked.

"You all shall be with Larcien and I, it was Túrante's wish you be watched closely and protected at all cost from being taken, we will see that wish trough. We will take the middle route."

"We spent most of the night discussing this," Larcien finally spoke up, "Those going left will be marked in yellow, the middle green, and to the right purple. This way the confusion can be kept down. Those tunnels are small and communication will be difficult."

"When do we leave?"

"At dawn." Gandalf replied.


	29. Chapter 28

Thank you to all of my readers for waiting so patiently on this next chapter, I hated having to keep it from you for so long, but with class, there was just no time. I hope this chapter will make up for it and hopefully I can have a second up during my break. Sadly the story is winding down and will be finished soon =[ it makes me sad knowing I will have to part from my readers and my characters.

As always please read and review, and let me know of any errors you see, I do not have a beta reader and I easily skip over the mistakes!

Chapter 28

She woke from her nightmares, in a cold sweat. She had quit trying to calculate how long she had been in her cell, she lost consciousness too often to have any idea and the light in her room never changed, there was always just the blue sheen coating everything.

She also quit struggling to break free of her bonds; her attempts always left her in failure, bleeding wrist, and little energy. Túrante knew she had to conserve what little she had left for when her brother returned. She was growing weaker and weaker by the day. He had quite drenching her in blood, but he found other ways to torture her most of her waking moments. He also had not given her any sustenance or water.

Thinking of water made her realize how thirsty she was and not only for blood, but anything that was wet. Her lips ached from their dryness, and she could feel the drying skin flaking away revealing more cracked skin underneath.

Long ago all feeling had left her arms; she could not even feel her shoulder ache if she stayed still, which she did until he came. She tried not to think of that, it would come all too soon she knew.

Last night the vision of her creation came back to her as it had that night in Rivendell, only here there was no one to hear her screams, or rush to her side. Here there was only Eglanon smiling in his glory and triumph. He had started taking joy in breaking random bones, and watching as they healed painstakingly slow. The last time it was her ribs, and every breath she took hurt, and even when she quit breathing, they still ached. She did not know how long it took to heal; eventually she passed out, the grinding pain of their movement finally too much.

When he walked in this time, she did not even acknowledge him, the echo of his boots on the wet floor, seemed but faint footfalls. She pulled herself into her mind. Túrante let what would happen to her body happen, she did not care anymore. In her mind she could find some small bit of comfort. It was enough to dull the pain of whatever he had in store. Most of the time now she would only remember the biggest details and slip right off into her nightmares; they were now her almost constant companions.

She heard him yelling at her, but did not reply, she did not even comprehend the words that he spoke to her. Nor did she see him through her dulled eyes, when he jerked up her dangling head. Instead she saw her home, she imagined herself back in Calithil, looking over the grand city that spread through the mountain valley in Fangorn. She saw her people going about their day, the animals frolicking in the sun. She took a deep breath and could smell the sweet scents of spring on the air. To her right she saw him, Legolas stood near her shoulder smiling out over the balcony with her and it brought a smile to her on face. She knew it was not real, but it brought her some form of happiness in the darkness that was both surrounding her and in her. That image was her peace and she would die with it.

Túrante was ready to give up; she had decided that today was the day. She knew her body could not take much more, and she was tired of trying to keep herself alive. She just wanted it to end. After Eglanon was done, she planned to just let go and fade into the halls of Mandos. She would welcome the death.

Some part of her knew she needed to keep trying to live, keep fighting, not for herself but for her people and all the elves she had brought to finish this battle, but it was not enough. The thought of Legolas had given her pause, but only for awhile. She knew if she lived without him, she would die slowly day by day. This death was easier, less painful, that is what she wanted now—the easy path, and she would take it.

She registered enough to know that he was leaving, she did not register the sped at which he flew from the room, or she might have known something was occurring, but she did not. Túrante just knew that he was gone and she was finally going to be free. She looked to the stone ceiling, smiling and with a last laugh gave up.

…

The valley was eerily quiet the morning of their departure as Legolas paced to and fro. His blonde hair was matted and unkempt from his tossing and turning that night and his blood shot eyes finished with their dark circles hinted at his lack of sleep. His friends watched him from a distance, but they knew not to disturb him. Aragorn had made sure they all left him alone. He had known the elf long enough to know not to interrupt his brooding, even though he was concerned over his condition. Thranduil had attempted to speak with him the night before, and brought up Túrante. It ended in Legolas trying to hit his own kin, and he would have if the others had not jumped in. After than The King of Gondor order him to be left alone.

Legolas had no knowledge of what Aragorn had done but he was glad to be left alone. His insides where in turmoil. They had postpones their departure, making a new wave of anger and frustration bubble its way to the surface; if they did not hurry, the less of a chance they had to find her alive, if she was not already dead. _'No," he scolded himself. _He could not think like that, _'I know she is still alive.' _ He was not sure how he knew, he could not feel her presence through the bond they seemed to share, but there was still something there. It was something he could not put his finger on, but it was enough. He knew somehow that she was not yet dead.

Legolas held onto to that shred of hope, it kept him from rushing off to her aid, it kept him here where he knew he was needed, but it was hard. Every minute that passed he grew tenser, his muscle were beginning to ache from their constant tautness. Had it not been for his companions he would have been long gone, yet he remembered his short talk with Aragorn.

When he had first learned they had to wait another day to make their start, he was preparing to leave on his own when Aragorn appeared. He was not soft and consoling to his loss, he was stern and kingly in his speech, which Legolas assumed he needed at that time. And now Aragorn's words weighed heavier than ever as the time drug on.

'_And what if you leave? What then? We need you, without you, many more will die. I know you care for Túrante, we all do but this is bigger than her. She gave herself up so we could complete our mission; do not make that sacrifice be in vain.' _

He had not said another word to him since.

Legolas was brought back to the present by the sound of a low blowing horn in the distance. His heart began thumping wildly in his chest. It was time. He wasted no time as he dashed through the crowd of elves and vampires, all trying to get to their post. No one spoke, they all gathered in a nervous silence. Legolas could feel the anxiety and fear rolling off the others around him in droves, his own joining theirs. Then the water was in front of him.

When he finally hit, the water was like thousands of tiny icy daggers all stabbing into his skin at once as he slowly waded into the shallows, and taking a deep breath, he plunged under the surface. He felt his heart jolt from the shock but he forced himself on, he had to make it to the caves opening. When he broke the surface he gasped for air, relieved to find the air rushing into his frozen lungs pleasantly warm.

The cave was large, it could easily fit a row of thirty elves, and the sides were a smooth brown color, no water dripped from them, considering they came from a lake to get here. The tunnel was lit by iridescent blue lights attached to sconces on the walls, they seemed to light themselves very much like the path they took through the misty mountains.

He immediately began searching for his friends, once he was able to get himself oriented to his surroundings. They were not hard to find, they had all gathered to one side of the cave, and he worked to make his way over. His mood was greatly improving now that they were on their way and one step closer to Canye.

"Aye, I see Blondie made it." Gimli's voice echoed off the walls, drawing attention to the group from those nearby.

"Gimli, not so loud, we do not know how far the sound will travel through this tunnel." Aragorn quickly scolded the dwarf who gave a loud humph.

"And to think I was worried about you." Legolas said to his friend, trying to force a small smile on his face.

"Of course ye were lad; you would have been lonely without me."

The others gave a small chuckle at the dwarf.

"What is our course now?" Faramir asked to his king.

It was Hallon, not Aragorn, however, who answered him. "The tunnel travels a good way before it splits— maybe a day and a half's journey. That will be difficult to judge, but it is the best estimate I have." He looked to Larcien who nodded in agreement. "Once we get to the split, each group will go their chosen way. We will all emerge in the dungeon, but at different sections. From there we will work our way up the floors. However, I must add we need to kill as quickly and quietly as we can for as long as is possible. The longer before we go unnoticed the better."

"Yes, we do not know the layout as our enemy will, we have Túrante's maps, yet it will not be the same. Stay together and work as a unit; we shall be stronger that way." Gandalf added, walking to the middle of the group, leaning heavily on his staff. He was weary, they all were. He looked around at the group, taking in all the faces. They were all different but all held the same undeniable fear he knew his did. With a sigh he slowly turned his back and began walking into the dim light. "Let us not linger here long and be gone."

Legolas was not sure how long they had been traveling, time passed slowly in the tunnel, and he had no way of knowing the time of day. They had stopped three times for rest since they started out, so he judged they had been inside the mountain for at least two if not three days. It was after the first rest they came upon the split and he and his companions took the middle path.

He traveled a few paces behind the leaders which included Hallon, Larcien, and Gandalf. He came to a quick halt when his leaders did, staring up into what seemed to him a shaft of some sort. "We are here."

Looking up he saw what seemed to be a small wooden ladder that lead up to s trap door of sorts. _'How would this have not been found?' _he thought to himself. Then again Túrante had said the dungeons did not need to be guarded, so it may be they did not search through them hard either. Either way he felt his heart speed up, she could be there when they came up, she could be in one of the cells. He was just feet away from where she could be. But he had to shake those thoughts from his mind, there was also a chance she would not be there, but held somewhere else, or she could be guarded, which would bring problems.

As much as he wanted to keep thinking of her, he had to stop they were climbing the ladder into Angband. Hallon stopped as he reached the top, "A final word of wisdom, do not open any sealed doors within the fortress of Angband. There are many foul creatures still locked in its depths. Servants of Melkor." Then he turned straight to Legolas, "Do not open any locked doors." Then he pushed open the hatch.

It landed with a bang that seemed to reverberate around them, he could see dust clouding up around where it now lay, and clearly it had been empty for a long while. The air that hit him was thick and stale, threatening to choke him. There was a stench of death all around, and evil too. It laced the air like clouds do the sky during a storm. It was everywhere, and when Legolas surfaced he knew why. He stepped up onto the floor of the dungeons. On either side he saw cages, big and small, all black. The black he knew was blood, it was on about every surface. Old skeletons littered them as well. But something shiny caught his eye in all the gloom. He walked to the closest cage and ran a finger down the bar.

"It is mithril." He said astonished and brought Gimli over, "Is it not?" mithril was rare, and he had never seen so much in one place.

"Aye that would be mithril, all of it is lad." He said quietly, the weight of the place weighting on him.

"Even we cannot break the strength of mithril." Larcien said, placing a cold hand on their shoulders. "It was not such a rare thing when we were first created, when the world was young."

It was Hallon who broke them up and ushered them forward, no one argued.

Legolas had to make himself look straight ahead, if he looked at the cells, he thought of her, of he would feel the cold fingers of dread clawing at his heart. Then he saw it, the first of the enemy straight ahead. And with that all thoughts of Canye vanished for a time, it was him and the enemy and nothing else mattered.

With a nod they all crept forward and the battle began.


	30. Chapter 29

_****NOTICE! The last half of this chapter has been revamped, as I was not satisfied with it as I first thought I was. Please read and review and tell me what you think!**_

_**Well here it is finally after a very long wait which I greatly apologize for, but I have a month off, in which I hope to get this story finished and maybe start a new one, I have some ideas coming to mind! Anyways please read and review and let me know what you guys think!**_

Chapter 29

When she opened her eyes, all she saw was white everywhere she turned. She had to blink multiple times from the brightness. Slowly Túrante was able to see clearly, and still it was all white, fading into nothing in any direction she looked. Grudgingly she pushed herself up from the hard alabaster floor she was laying on, expecting a great deal of pain, but there was none. Looking down she was dressed in a long simple white gown, her pale skin free of the dirt and grime she knew should cover her body.

"This is the Hall of Mandos?" she asked aloud, confused. She did not know what the Valar's realm looked like, but she had not pictured this, Túrante had expected more than endless nothing.

"No my child, it is not." A smooth, hauntingly familiar voice called out, causing Túrante to whirl around on the spot.

The woman, also in white and long flowing dark hair, stood behind her, hands folded in front of her body, a sad smile lingering on her lips. Her porcelain skin almost blending in with the white surrounding them.

Túrante let out a sigh of relief, although she was not who she was expecting, "My lady Varda."

"My child, what have you done?" she touched her hand to Túrante's face, looking deep into her eyes, seeing the defeat in them.

"What I had to do. But I do not understand, where am I if not the Halls of Mandos?" she looked around again, hoping to see something about her but the white, to no avail.

"Some deep corner of your mind I imagine, you lost the ability to fade when Melkor turned you. You are closer to being immortal than any save the Valar themselves. When you gave up, your soul was lost, it had nowhere to go and so it created this somehow in your mind. A place where you could survive. Your body now is no more than a limp vessel. Your soul took a great deal of effort to build up this shield for you; it took much power for us to break in."

"Us?" she questioned, now growing more uneasy. Who would have helped her, Manwë? Then she realized, without help, who 'us' meant, "no, she was never supposed to know, she cannot know, NO!"

"I have known from the beginning my child." The woman floated above the ground, halting beside Varda. She was beautiful, almost a spitting image of her daughter. She was also dress in a long flowing sheer white gown that floated around her. Her raven black hair intricately decorated with braids and circlet of silver. "Did you think I would let you go to Middle Earth and not watch over you? You are my daughter Canye."

"I am not her any longer, I am a monster." Túrante shot back, trying to keep her tone under control with her elders. This was not how it was supposed to happen. She wanted to spare her mother pain of knowing what she had become, of the things she had done.

"Oh I know you did my child," her mother spoke, hearing her thoughts, "But you are wrong, whether you see it or not." She pointed to her head, "Maybe not in here, but here you are." And she placed her hand over what would have been Túrante's beating heart. "And I love you all the same, as does your father."

By now Túrante's face was lined with red tears, adding the only color to her self- made prison. She felt her mother's warm arms wrap around her cold body, and could feel it conduct and flow into her skin. Her tight arms around her giving her comfort she had not known in many an age. She almost protested when she felt her pull back, but did not. Could not.

"Our time is running short here, you must go back child." Varda spoke again.

"I cannot, it hurts too much, I just cannot take it anymore, I am sorry."

"If you do not, it will all be for vain, the entirety of your existence. All those that you brought here to Angband will perish. Do you not care? What of Prince Legolas, will you let him die as well?" Varda's words were not cruel, but they held the command in them all the same.

"Even if I went back and we both lived, there is no hope for us, whatever there is between us. It cannot be." She threw back. It was true, no matter how hard they might work at it and try to make something of their connection, she would never be accepted and she would not take him from his people.

"What you have is special, and very rare. Sometimes souls are split and the two will always search for each other, the two of you are the lucky ones that have found each other, few ever do. It is NOT something you through away. Nothing worth having is ever easy, in any life. But they are worth fighting for." This time it was her mother, and she felt the force behind her words, the truth of them, and the love she spoke them with, as the wind picked up around her mother, emphasizing the power she held. The room seemed to darken a shade at the change of mood.

She knew they spoke the truth, she never should have given up but she did not have any strength left, or the will. "I do not have the strength to go back."

"You are of my bloodline, blood of the Maiar, there is great power in you if you would just embrace it, embrace yourself my child. And you must."

"Even with your return, you cannot hope to win this battle alone. You will need help." Varda told her.

"There is none," Túrante said, the despair she had fought back in her chains in Angband began rising up in her again.

"There are us, the Valar and Maiar. But we cannot get there fast enough without help. We need your power on the other side to be able to get to the battle in time. It will take much power and we need all we can muster. If you can open it, we can do the rest."

Túrante looked from one to the other and back again. She had a choice, she could stay here, they said themselves their time here was limited, and she could feel it now, her soul's shield starting to fight their presence. But then she would be alone, in whiteness, for all eternity, even if her body was destroyed, her soul would wander on forever lost. Could she do that?

"What must I do?"

"Become who you were born to be, become Canye again." Her mother told her.

She closed her eyes and reached out in her mind, she pushed past her doubts, her thoughts, her memories, and she kept going until she felt it. Locked deep down she felt the power she refused to have, the power that belong to the half Maiar, Canye. That warmth she knew as a child, the thrill of the power, its strength. She held the power of light.

She opened her eyes, and nodded, and she felt them send her back to her reality and to her body.

The pain hit her full force when her shields were finally broken. She let an unintended scream out as it hit. She could not stop it. Everywhere ached and throbbed and she was still tied in mithril. How was she to break free? She began to struggle against them, knowing it would not work; mithril was beyond her strength as a vampire to break, she could also feel her powers flowing in her veins, wanting to be unleashed, but it would not break the bonds. She felt the blood begin to trickle down her wrist and that gave her an idea. If she could cover her wrist in enough blood, it may be enough to pull them out.

She worked tirelessly on her bonds, she could feel her skin slowly start ripping from her hands, and her blood was freely flowing from her wounds. Finally she quit, it was not working and she was only wearing herself out and she needed what little strength she had left. What could he do now?

Her mind began turning over idea after again, and then it hit her— light. She had the power of the light, and mithril was a metal. She may not be able to break it, but she could melt it, reshape it.

Focusing her mind on her shackles, she drew forth her powers, pictured them wrapping around the chains, felt its warmth, watch the metal slowly change shape. In her mind she pictured two swords, each short and delicately curved, shimmering of mithril, and then it was over. She felt herself fall from the chains, hitting the floor with a loud thump. She opened her throbbing hands, hearing the clank of metal when she did and opened her eyes. There on the ground in front of her lay the swords she envisioned, glimmering blue in the cell. She smiled.

Ever so slowly she pushed herself up from the cold stone floor, grimacing at the stiffness of her body. It took many moments for the feeling in her arms to return to her, still her shoulders felt as if they were on fire. But she had to put that behind her, many levels below her a battle raged on and she had very little time left.

She closed her eyes and strained her ears to hear outside her room. Far below the sounds of battle echoed through the stone caverns, but no movement on the upper levels could she detect, and so she pushed open her door and walked out.

…

Legolas did not know how many blood elves he had killed, it was impossible to keep count. Where one fell, three more were there to take its place. For three days they had been in Angband, and for the last day, the fighting had been heavy, there were no breaks now that their presence had been confirmed. All around him, he watched them fall; blood elves, the vampires for Calithil, elves. He had long ago lost sight of his friends, now he fought near his father, glad to see he was still alive.

Then he fell. It was as if something had grabbed his soul and ripped it from his body. He clutched at his chest in desperation, he could not breath. He knew then Canye was not okay, something had something, something bad, yet he did not know what. Was she dead? Legolas had to get to her. Scrambling to his feet, he took off trying desperately to find a way up. She had not been in the dungeons, or any level they had been on, so she had to be held high above them. He could not let her die.

Shear panic and fear flooded his system, pushing his tired body to its limits. It felt as if a hole replaced where his heart should go, it felt empty, and he felt empty.

Why did she have to go after the party that was attacked, why did he let her, and why did she give herself up? Why had he spoken to her how he had the last time they were together? That could not be how things ended between them, it just could not happen. He would find her, he would save her.

It seemed like hours he looked, yet to no avail, he knew know he had been traveling in circles, he had passed the same locked black metal door, with deep gouges three times now. His legs finally quit running then, and he bent over his legs, trying to catch his breath. Then something changed.

Searing warmth began spreading from his chest and radiated down to his limbs, the dread and emptiness that had been his should felt awakened once more. He knew she was alive now, she was safe for now, so why the nagging thought building up in his mind? He could not get a clear message, or picture, just that something was wrong or going to be wrong. Legolas just knew he had to get back to the battle, to his father, but how?

One word then filled his mind, 'father.'

Without another thought, he turned and ran towards the sound of battle once more

…

Ten levels down Canye saw the first signs of battle. Dead bodies littered the floor, both elves and Eglanon's forces. The air was becoming thick with blood, and the stench of evil. She felt her throa flare up in response to the sense, however, her brother's torture, had quenched much of the pain. The torture came in handy somehow at least, she thought drily. She quickened her paced considerable them until she was in the hall adjacent to were the fighting was now taking place, and blocking her path stood a good number of blood elves, waiting to join the fight, once they felt the need. They never got the chance, however. Canye sent her bolts of light down the tunnel, erupting in color, sending the enemy out the arch. Dead instantly.

The use of the power at such strength though was taxing, and she felt its effects immediately, knowing then that she must conserve it at all cost to open the portal. Her body was already weak from the state Eglanon had left her in, she knew very well this could be her end but taking a deep breath, she strode out into the battle.

Moving with quick, simple, and calculated strokes, she cut down one after another, her mithril blades slicing through the enemy with little effort, Canye made her way through the battle, searching in earnest for a familiar face. Many had stopped fighting at her blast of light, but the pause was only temporary. Many smiles greeted her, many she knew from home, but they were not the ones she needed to see right now.

Where was Legolas? Where were Faramir and the others? A stinging pain drew her from her search as her distraction had cost her her concentration. An enemy blade had gotten past her guard, and now a fresh cut across her upper arm was freely bleeding. With a growl escaping her lips, the creature in front of her took an uneasy step back and she watched with satisfaction as her blade took off his head.

She had made it to the center of the room, when she felt Eglanon's presence, and looking up, saw him striding towards her. He had a group of his soldiers about him for protection; it did not look as if he had even dirtied his blade. Canye also noted when his eyes darted to his right that a satisfied smile spread across his lips. She could not help but follow his gaze and her heart stopped.

Canye held no great love for the King of the woodland realm, yet when she saw him surrounded by the enemy and no help coming, she knew she had to act. If she lived she could not face Legolas knowing she did not try to save his father. They did not see eye to eye but she knew they held a deep love for one another.

Opening her wings she took to the air above the fighting, heading straight for Thranduil. She knew Eglanon would try and stop her, so she used her power to send him across the room. He landed with a resounding crack into the wall, it crumbling under the force, and she used the last effort to land in front of the king, who was now on his knees. She only had a split second to react but it was not fast enough. She felt the blade plunge into her shoulder and protrude through the other side, causing her to stumble, and at the same time she watched as Legolas came running through the arch, stopping at the sight before him.

As much as she wanted to focus on him she knew she could not and she shook the image of him from her mind and began fighting the enemy before her. She knew someone was near cutting them down around her but she did not know who, her mind was becoming clouded. _'Focus,'_ she told herself, _'focus.' _

Finally, after what seemed like a decade, the numerous monsters surrounding her were gone, and she was face to face with Faramir and Thranduil. She gave a small smile and nod, which they both quickly returned.

"I need all the time you can give me."

Neither man answered, but both circled her, keeping all who wished to pass at bay. Closing her eyes she ripped the blade from her shoulder, holding in her pain. She ignored the stabbing pain and gush of blood as she reached for her power, wrapping herself in it, and began to cast her spell. She was not sure of what to say, but just let the words flow. At the same time she picture Valinor, and she pictured Angband, and a bridge between the two. She could feel the wind picking up around her, whipping her matted hair and tattered clothes.

Canye opened her eyes, and saw a tunnel begin to form in front of her. Shapes began to form in the white void it created, the first person she saw was Eönwë, herald of Manwë calling forth the host come to their rescue. She kneeled in awe, but that was soon shaken with a piercing scream, one she knew all too well. Larcien.

She scrambled to her feet, stumbling as she went, searching in vain for her friend. What she found stopped her cold. Larcien was covered in blood and wounds, yet that was not what made her chest constrict in agony. Hallon lay at her feet, blood gushing from his neck, which was too severed to reattach. He was bleeding out and there was nothing anyone could do to save him. So Canye did the only thing she could do, she grabbed Larcien from behind, pulling her too her feet away from Hallon.

"LARCIEN, stop! There is nothing you can do for him now. He is beyond all our help. The time for grieving will come, but it is not now my friend. Now you must fight." Her voice was hard, but choked with tears of her own.

"It was him. It was Eglanon." Her hoarse voice choked. And Canye, jerked her head up, and there he was, standing just feet from where Hallon fell, gingerly wiping the blood from his sword as if it was a casual thing. His face was smug as he looked upon their grief stricken ones.

Then shrieks filled the air around them, fire blazed, water was being thrown, winds was racing, and her people were sending up cheers. The Valar and Maiar had made it. She let out a sigh of relief and turned back to her brother, pleased to see fear on his face.

"Let us fight Larcien." She let her friend go and charge ahead.

Even in his distraction, Eglanon was ready and met her blow for blow. She did not know if she had the strength to keep on going after this, but she did know she would find the strength once and for all to end her enemy.

"Taking the death a little hard are we Túrante?" he mocked, his malicious smile returning to his face.

"It is Canye brother; I thought you would have remembered that." She growled and had the grim satisfaction to see him taken aback and took no time to send a bolt of light into his chest.

Then she was on him again in a fierce attack, always on the offensive, never allowing a blow from Eglanon. Strike after strike she dealt, working relentlessly to tire him out, all the while losing her own stamina.

Then she hit the ground, her strength almost gone. From her knees she saw him stride towards her and from her right she saw Legolas trying desperately to fight his way to her. All around her the enemy was falling, the Valar and Maiar saving their people and middle earth. She could only hope it would be enough, and looking back to Legolas, she mouthed I am sorry. And with all her will she drove her blades into Eglanon's stomach, taking him completely unawares and sent all her power through the mithril. She watched as his body seemed to glow before his scream of agony rose into the air, his body catching fire from the inside. Then he was gone, he was nothing more than ash at her feet. She smiled, and looked up, dropping her weapons. She had done it.

She let herself fall backwards onto the blood stained floor, and felt strong arms catch her. Legolas. She felt his warmth, his life, felt the flicker of their bond, but it was not enough. She was too far gone this time. She felt his hot tears dripping onto her cheeks, leaving stains and they fell to the ground. She wanted nothing more than to reach up and tell him it would be okay, tell him no matter what she would always love him, but she could not.

"Please do not leave me, you cannot Canye. I need you. I love you." He demanded of her, his voice thick with tears. She felt him burry his head in her chest.

"And…aaand I you." She used all her remaining strength to say so. She stayed long enough to see some of her other friends gathered, her mother, and others she could not recognize, and then it was gone.


	31. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Legolas did not know how long he lay crumpled on the floor, clutching at Canye's limp form. He did not register Aragorn or Gimli's comforting hands on his shoulder nor did he acknowledge Faramir's crouched figure beside him. All he knew was that she was gone, but how could she be gone? It was not right, it was not fair. This was not how it was meant to end.

She was supposed to live a long and happy life once this war was ended, a life away from her grief, and one with happiness. Now she would not have that. Neither of them would.

"It is not fair!" he screamed out in agony, his friends could offer him no comfort.

Tears were again freely falling from his eyes, streaking the grim that covered Canye's face and neck. "She never deserved this!"

He did not heed his friends retreat from him, he did not care. He wanted to be alone; he no longer wished to be on this earth without her.

If he had been paying attention to his soul he would have noticed the empty feeling from before when she faded did not return. The despair his soul felt then was absent. However, he was too caught up in Túrante's death to notice.

'_Do not give into your despair Legolas, there is more here than meets the eye.' _The voice echoed in his head, and for the first time he looked up from her body. The voice was not one he had heard before. It was so velvety smooth and rich, and it was as if it commanded attention without ever asking for it.

Before him stood two of the most beautiful beings he had ever seen. Both were of the palest alabaster skin and purest black hair. Their eyes were a storm of colors that were bewitching to behold. He watched silently as they knelt by canye, and placed their hands on her arm and his, it seemed to be offering comfort and saying goodbye. Neither said a word, they both closed their eyes for a brief second and then stood back up, leaving Legolas to look back at the body in his arms.

Only a few moments had passed, when he sensed a bright light penetrating his shut eyes. Legolas jerked his head back, seeing the light source come from Canye's body, it seemed to radiate out and engulfed her body. He let go when he felt her rising into the air, and jumped back joining the others not far behind him. They all stood in awe and watched as it began happening to others.

All of Canye' s people were affected, and one by one they were all lowered back to the ground, were they collapsed from what seemed exhaustion. Each one tried to get up over and over to no avail; it was as if they could not control their extremities. Canye was the last to fall and he was there to catch her, forgetting the others for the time.

He looked around in confusion, "What is going on?" he asked to no one in particular.

'_Look my child and you shall see.'_ He heard the voice in his head again.

However it was nothing he saw that caught his attention but more of what he felt. She was not cold. One thing he had learned to get used to was that her body was always cold. Though she was never affect by weather extremes, to other's touch it was as if she was made of ice. Now, however, she was warm, and there was a pink flush to her skin.

"She is warm?!" he exclaimed, causing the others to give one another curious glances. He did not understand— it just was not possible.

'_Listen.' _It told him. It did not truly understand, but he did as he was told, closing his eyes he just listened. And there it was. But it could not be, could it? And yet he heard it: the steady lub dub of a heart beat. He dropped his head to her chest and heard as it got louder. Then he jumped back, eyes growing wide as she took in a gasping breath of air and started to cough.

…

She could feel herself gasping for breath, and having a hard time filling her lungs, which she found odd since she did not have to breathe if she chose not to do so. Of course it was hard to focus on anything else besides the pain, it blocked out most of her senses, and she did not dare to move. Slowly she braved it to open her eyes, and all she could see was white and a few black spots scattered throughout her field of vision. Inwardly she groaned.

"Damn I am tired of trying to die and waking up to white." She moaned, not realizing she voiced it out loud, her voice cracked and was barely audible. She tried to jerk her head to the side upon hearing a musical laugh reverberate around her, but the movement sent a shooting pain through her body and she instantly stopped.

"You are not dead my child." The familiar voice replied. "Your senses will return with time."

"Obviously, I feel as if I have been run over by an oliphaunt." She groaned, hearing a few different chuckles around her. She wanted to know who was around her, clearly they were not the enemy and lady Varda was here. The portal.

"Did it work Varda, the portal, did it work?" she asked her voice becoming panicked as the memories started flooding back to her. She saw Hallon's dying body, Eglanon turning to ash, the portal opening. Legolas. "Legolas?" she called out, not waiting for a reply from the lady Varda, she felt her heart pounding.

"I am right here." His voice rang out clear as a bell to her ears.

Wait, why was her heart pounding? Her heart did not beat, this was not right. She really was dead wasn't she? They all were and this was just some sort of purgatory. She began struggling to get free, only to realize her arms and legs felt like lead, she could hardly move them. Her vision, now somewhat back was grainy and her range drastically shortened. Details were lost to her.

"What is happening?" she yelled, trying to free herself to no avail from Legolas' grip.

"Canye!" Legolas' voice answered, "calm down, it is alright." He tried to soothe her.

She felt his tight grip around her body, felt his hands gingerly rubbing her back and arms, she focused on his breathing. Freaking out would not help the situation, she had to get control over herself before she lost it. The pain from her movements was debilitating. This time it was Legolas who spoke.

"My Lady Varda, what is happening to her?"

"She is elf kind again," she said, and one could almost hear the smile in her voice.

"But…but that is impossible." Canye stuttered. She strained to see the people around her.

"No child it is not. No true being of evil can be loved or love in return. The only trace of what you were is all in your memories."

"My people?"

"Also freed, all are elf kind once more, thanks to you two." She looked between the two elves in front of her. Murmurs went up through the crowd that had gathered. Everyone was checking the other to see if it really was true.

Canye put a hand to her throat. It was gone. The burn was gone, no trace of it lingered. It was true then, they were freed. She began to cry happy tears of joy. Closing her eyes, she dropped her head to Legolas' chest and gripped his tunic with her hand and just let the tears flow. There were few times in her life she had truly been this happy.

Her mother then knelt down, and placed a hand atop her head, "Now it is time to rest, her body has much healing to do yet." And with that she sent her into a deep sleep.

…

She heard birds chirping around her when she finally woke, but here are no birds in Angband, she thought to herself.

"You are not in Angband, my child." Ilmarë spoke to her daughter. "You are back in Calithil. The Valar saw fit to help all return for their services to Middle Earth before their return."

"If they are gone, how is it you are still here?" Canye asked. She still kept her eyes shut, breathing in the sweet scents of home that wafted around her.

"Your father and I asked permission to stay behind to stay with you in your kingdom. We have much to catch up on."

Canye smiled at that, but ever so slowly the recent events started to fill her mind. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A fortnight. Your body was very weak and took long to heal. We did all in our power to speed it along but it was slow going. I am sorry, there is much you have missed."

She took one last long deep breath, she would have to find time later to relish in her newly created elvish body. Now she had a kingdom to see to and Larcien. A pang of guilt and sorrow washed over her. Hallon was gone; however he was just one of many who lost their lives. How many would that be? She could only guess but the number would be terrible either way. For now she had to get to Larcien.

"You will not find her here." She heard her mother say. She was slightly startled; she was still unused to her mother being able to know her thoughts. It was still discomforting. "I will try not to do it as often," she gave her daughter a small smile. "But Larcien did not come back to Calithil."

"Where else could she have gone? This is her home!" Canye protested.

Ilmarë made her way over to the bedside, where her daughter was struggling to get out of bed, the new weight of her body foreign to her. "She went to Valinor, her grief was too much to bear."

Canye went to sink back on her bed, but was stopped by a strong grip on her arm, "Come let us walk, there is still more you must know." Canye did not answer, she just let her body follow the figure in front of her.

Larcien was gone, Hallon was gone. Her two best and most trusted friends had left her. She was not alone in her city, yet she felt as if she was all alone on the whole of middle earth. Legolas had gone back to Mirkwood with the other woodland elves. She felt her heart constrict as her mother spoke those words to her and for a moment she almost wished she were a vampire again, were she did not have to feel the tightness in her chest. Their last time together flashed through her mind. The cold stone of Angband around them, her gasping for air, his arms tight around her, protecting her, their tear streaked faces. All of it was like yesterday, and it was gone.

Gandalf had traveled to Edoras with Faramir and Éowyn, soon to be the new king and queen after the fall of Éomer at Angband; another of her friends was gone. She could feel her heart growing heavier, getting weighed down with grief.

Aragorn had returned to his wife in Gondor and Gimli to his in Erebor. Most of Hallon's new found family had also sailed away to Valinor, while other families joined their new found family members in Calithil. She was surprised to learn that Elrond's twins had chosen to come to her city, there would be some laughter through her halls with their presence, but of course Elrond had returned to Rivendell and Galadriel to Lothlorien. Both had come to Calithil to aid in her recovery process she learned and had only departed a few days earlier. That was one friend she still had close, Galadriel.

More and more elves had started appearing in the halls after word of her awaking spread. Many offered smiles and congratulations and bows. She returned them all methodically, hearing them but never really comprehending what they said. Canye did her duty as their queen.

"I believe it is time I retired back to my room, mother." She had just about she could withstand in one day.

…

Canye stood on one of the many balconies overlooking the grand gardens that had been built, with the horse pastures far in front of them. It was a cool morning, with birds singing and collecting food for the coming winter months. The leaves had started turning from their bright green to an array of autumn colors. Sprays of yellows oranges and reds decorated the tree limbs as far as the eyes could see. There was a slight breeze rustling that morning, stirring the leaves as if making a song.

A month had passed in Calithil in the blink of an eye since her return. And as she stood on that balcony she tried to reflect on all that had occurred since then. They had had replant all their fields that had perished in their absence and hope they were ready for harvest before the first frost. Her people had been sending prayers to Yavanna for a good harvest.

Galadriel had sent them many new stallions and mares to start breeding a new herd of horses, as most of theirs had not made it back and now without their ability to fly, they needed the beautiful creatures more than ever.

And then there were Elrond's twins Elrohir and Elladan. She had expected them to only stay for a brief while; however, they informed her they meant to stay and so she saw fit to give them jobs worthy of their stations.

Elrohir, the more bookish of the two was her personal assistant. She had him going through papers, trying to put together census of the people in the city. Who was alive, who had perished, and who was new. They were planning a ceremony for their fallen. He also help with writing accounts of their travels as well as their harvest planning. Pretty much, anything she needed helped with, it was up to Elrohir. His bubbly and k=joking personality helped all those around take to him instantly. She thanked the Valar for him every day as she was still weary.

And as for Elladan, being the more adventurous, he was now one of her top generals, leading and managing her scouting parties for the occasional band of orcs that may cross into their borders. When he was not scouting, he was with the soldiers on the training field. None of the leaders had since felt a threat to Middle Earth, but where there is good, there is also evil and they would always need to be ready.

Her parents spent time mingling with the people, getting to know them all and learning their customs and beliefs. They also helped their daughter with duties that came with running a kingdom.

Then there was Legolas. Often times he was on her mind, more often than not actually. His absence weighed heavy on her heart, her soul felt like stone. But she had to go on. Her people needed her, and as much as it hurt, and oh it hurt her day after day, canye had to keep going. She put on her fake smile and pleasant laugh once out of the confines of her room. But here on her balcony she could let her grief show, let the sorrow escape, if only for a moment. Here she was a completely different person. She was worn out and weary.

Then a knock on her door shook her from her revere. "My lady?"

"Yes Elrohir, what is it?" she answered, gingerly pulling herself from the balcony and making her way to the door.

"A message for you, in the great hall."

She opened the door at that point and gave him a quizzical look.

"Why did you not bring it with you?" she asked, she received all letters in her solar.

"The message is not a letter, but an elf, I thought you would prefer to see them outside your room." He answered.

"Aye, let us go down then." She grabbed her cloak and fastened it a top her dress and left her room, shutting the door slowly behind her, not willingly wanting to leave, but her duties as queen were beckoning.

When she entered the great hall, Canye was surprised to find it mostly empty, only the norm hustle and bustle of daily castle life was going on about her. Where was the messenger? She looked around again but there was no one there waiting on her. She turned to look at Elrohir and saw Elladan and her parents descending the stairs at the far end, all with smiles on their faces.

But before she could asked, she felt a strange tingling in her body and turned to see the large oak doors being swung aside and a group of elves entered past them, all dressed in green and brown. Her heart skipped a beat, but she made herself keep her resolve. A host from Mirkwood and a large host at that had come.

The leader stepped forward and offered a small bow, extending his arm, which carried a letter.

She thanked him and took the letter from him, and turned around as she began to open it, her hands shaking slightly. Her eyes instantly looked to the bottom for the signature, Thranduil. Canye felt her hopes drop, but she should have known better. There was no future with Legolas here; it was a hard fact she had to accept. She had to stop looking for him around every corner.

And so she made herself start at the top and read the eloquent handwriting on the parchment.

_My lady Canye,_

_Many a long day I have sat thinking of the past few months. Many a long day I have sat and watched my son. He does his duties with the up most care performing each perfectly. And yet he is not the son he was before he departed. Much has he been through since the war of the ring and now the war of the elves._

_I have many things I must live with in my life that I have done. But I will point out everything was done for what I believed the best for my people, as I am sure as a queen of your own people you can understand. But seeing the pain I have put my son in is more than I can bear to live with._

_I cannot take back for my previous treatment towards you and your people and for that I am truly sorry. But I feel there is one thing I can give you that means as much to you as it does to me. That is why I sent with this letter, what I believe is the strongest one I or anyone else can ever give to you. Love._

_Sincerely Thranduil of Mirkwood_

She slowly turned back around, and watched as the soldiers of Mirkwood parted before her eyes, and her heart stopped. There he was standing before her. Legolas. He was in the traditional greens and browns of his people, his hair pulled back in his normal warrior braids, and a smile was lighting up his face from ear to ear. She felt her mouth fall open, and then try to form words that would not come. Canye watched as he strode quickly forward, finding her own feet would not work for her.

Then she was in his arms, twirling through the air. He was back, she could hardly believe it. She could hear the applause of all those gathered around, which now was the entirety of her city and could see the smiles upon their faces through her tears.

"You are here?" she asked in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"I am here for you my love." Was his reply as he breathed in the scent of her, relishing the feel of her in his arms once again. He could feel the heaviness of his heart lifting by the second.

He picked her up once more, his lips meeting her own, the warmth spread like fire through their bodies, emitting a bright light as their souls joined. The kiss was full of passion they felt for one another, full of sorrows that they had both endured, but most of all and most importantly full of love they both had for the other.

Time seemed to stop for them both, they did not heed the crowd gathered, still cheering the reunion of the queen and her beloved. When they finally parted, canye looked deep into his blue orbs, "forever?" she asked him.

"Forever," he replied before capturing her lips once more. And so was there happily ever after.

**And so ends the story of Túrante/Canye. Please let me know how you like this ending, I am not sure I am 100% pleased, it was very hard to write, as I do not want to say goodbye to my characters! However, please tell me any improvements you have, or any ideas you would like me to put into this ending, I am willing to make changes if I think they are worth it and I love to hear your ideas! Thanks again so much to all of my faithful reviewers, you have made it worthwhile to write this story and encourage me to continue!**

**Aralinn**


	32. Epilogue

Epilogue

It was a beautiful crisp autumn day as Canye stood upon her balcony, eyes closed. All around her birds chirped and fluttered about getting ready for the coming winter. Squirrels could be seen gathering nuts to hoard in their homes and everything seemed to be at peace. Everything that is, except her insides.

Inside she was a bundle of nerves all on edge, for today was the day. She opened her eyes and looked to the delicate silver ring that sat upon her right hand. Today she would be giving that ring back to Legolas and his to her in exchange for gold ones. In just a few hours their wedding ceremony would begin.

Today was the day she had dreamed of for so long, and now it would finally come true, she smiled to herself. Even though her nerves were pure from joy and excitement she tried to push them away, she wanted to be alert, focused and ready. She wanted everything to be perfect, to be perfect for him.

The sound of a door opening caused her to look away from her view, to see her mother striding in, only she would fail to knock, a habit that greatly irritated Canye, yet today she could not find it in her to reprimand her mother yet again, instead she smile and went to embrace the Maiar.

"Has everything been prepared?" she asked as she pulled away from Ilmarë.

"Hush, hush now child. That is not for you to worry about; however, everything has been set up just to the specifications set by Legolas and you. Some will still not be happy."

Of course canye did not care. The blessing that would be given to them from her mother and Legolas' father had never been heard by mortal ears, and present today for their ceremony were plenty. Many of the more traditional elves found it preposterous and against their customs, especially as a dwarf was among one of the mortals. However, theirs was no ordinary wedding either.

Faramir his wife Éowyn, Aragorn and Arwen, Gimli, and Gandalf had all been invited, all had come, and all were given seats of honor. They had been adamant on those points, and as it was there day, their parents could not refuse them.

"Come now let us get you ready." She chattered, ushering her daughter into the bath.

…

As she descended the steps to the great hall, canye for the first time felt as beautiful as she truly was. Her dress had been a gift from Varda herself, made from the light of the stars she loves. Every inch of it made her radiate its glow. Its scooped neckline ended just before her shoulders, were the material wrapped around her upper arm. From there layers of sheer fabric hung loose around her arm and hand, pooling gently on the floor. Upon the bodice were intricate designs of silver stitching that reached to a point where a satin ivory belt hung low on her hips. The skirt of the dress was also made of the finest silk, and it was able to flow freely around her and was covered with the sheerest lace, that seemed to be embroidered with the stars of Valinor itself. It was truly a sight to behold.

The circlet that was upon her head, her mother had made for her, to both represent Calithil and Mirkwood. It was made of mithril. Silver ivy leaves adorned the sides, interwoven into the elvish designs. At the front it met to hold a crescent moon. Below the designs continued and came to a point between her eyebrows, holding a tiny pearl.

Other than her silver ring, she wore no other jewelry. Only her hair was done, fixed it loose flowing curls down her back, and creamy white flats were on her feet.

They continued to the bottom were Legolas and his father stood waiting. Everyone's gasp at her appearance was audible and Canye had to smile. The look of admiration and love on her betrothed face would be one that stayed with her a life time.

"You are the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld." He told her, pulling her close and planting a soft kiss upon her lips. It sent a jolt through them both, as if fire was spreading through their bodies, but it was a welcoming feeling, a good feeling.

Canye had little time to take in his appearance as they were quickly being ushered to the garden for the celebratory feast. He was dressed in the traditional Mirkwood colors of green and browns— His own attire also a gift from Varda. The very stitching seemed to be of silver, and one could see it shine whenever light touched it.

Once to the archway that was covered in a veil of flowers, their parents went through first. They waited until they heard their names announced before gliding hand and hand through the arch. The guest gathered all stood up and offered cheers and praise. At the head of the middle table they show who they most wanted to see, they saw their friends and hurriedly made over to them. They all greeted one another with giant hugs and handshakes. And so the feast began.

When most of the food had been eaten, and most of the guest were talking jovially and sipping on the wine, Ilmare and Thranduil stood and walked to the end of the tables, where a small platform had been set up.

"Legolas, Canye, please come forth." They said in unison, each extended an arm out for their children.

Legolas stood first, turning to help Canye rise from her own seat, and linked arms as they ascended the small steps. Around them hung fine ivory lace, entwined with leaves and flowers of all kinds and small columns holding candles were placed strategically around them.

Thranduil stepped out to Canye, holding his jewel out towards her. "To you Canye, I present this gem." It hung upon a small silver chain, and from it dangled a green gemstone carved into three leaves that overlapped one another.

"Thank you," she told him quietly.

"And to you Legolas, I present this gem." Ilmare spoke as she too stepped forward. In her hands she held a gem also attached to a small silver chain, however, dangling from it hung dark sapphire, cut into the shape of a crescent moon and stars.

"Thank you."

"Now you each have a piece of the others home." Thranduil said, "You may exchange your rings."

Turning to face one another, both with smiles on their faces, they each removed the silver rings they had worn for the past year and handed them back to the other. Then they each produced a new ring, made of gold, and slide it on the forefinger of their hand. Holding hands they returned to facing the elves in front of them.

It was Ilmare who spoke first, "May Varda Star-kindler hear Canye and Legolas' calls, and may Eru the Father of All bless them."

Then followed Thranduil, giving his own blessing, "May Manwë Lord of Wind watch over Legolas and Canye, and may Eru the Father of All bless them."

The next few minutes passed in a blur, and try and she might Canye could not remember much of what transpired after the blessing and the departure of the guest. She just remembered person after person offering their congratulations, talking with her friends, and then she was here. She was here being carried through the door to her new room. No, she had to remind herself, their new room—hers and Legolas'. The ideas sent chills up her spine, causing a slight shiver in her body.

She noticed then Legolas looking down at her, "You look beautiful my love." He told her caressing her cheek with his fingers. She sucked in a deep breath, her heart skipping a beat at his touch, even though it was no more than a touch of a feather. She closed her eyes. She could hear the beating of their hearts in sync with one another, she could smell his earthy aroma, feel his hot breath on her skin.

Opening her eyes again, she found herself starring into his bright blue orbs darkened with love, passion, and desires, and she could not look away. Inside she could feel her own emotions rising up to join his, mimicking them.

"My king," She said in a husky voice, full of more emotions than she could count. For he was her king, her husband, her best and closest confidant, he was her everything. A smile played across her rosy lips, "I am yours now and forever."

She gave a gasp as she felt her body lifted from the ground. She felt Legolas's strong arms gripping her hips and back, his warmth spreading through her like fire as it did every time she felt his touch. This time however, it was different. It was more intense, more rapid, consuming her body and soul.

He twirled her around as he had the day of their reunion and she could help the laugh that escaped her lips. She felt like a child again, so happy, so in love, so carefree. "Aye," he said. "And you are my queen in this life and the next." She felt his breath hot on her neck as he nuzzled his face into her shoulder and she laid her head a top his for a brief second. His breath sent more jolts through her body.

Slowly she lifted her head and looked down, "Legolas," she whispered quiet as a mouse, and watched as he lifted his head to look at her once more.

This time she kissed him. She pressed her lips to his, feeling the passion and desire flow from them as they eagerly parted to move in connection with her own. She could feel her mind cloud with only thoughts of him; nothing else mattered at that moment but him.

She did not know when he placed her on the bed, it did not matter. She could feel his hands moving along her body, leaving a trail of fire as they went. Her whole body felt alive with it. She took one last look into his eyes before she lost herself in him. The night was theirs.

**Okay so my faithful readers please let me know what you think. I know many of you wanted more fluff, and so did I! Please let me know what you think. Too much, not enough? More dialogue, or is it just enough? I really want your opinions! I hope at a later time to have maybe a few one shots showing their life together later on!**


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